


all the stars afire

by ndnickerson



Series: nothing else but this [7]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Bonding, Claiming, Coitus Interruptus, Comfort, Couch Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Foot Massage, Guns, Hickeys, Hurt/Comfort, Impersonation, Injury, Injury Recovery, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Love Bites, Married Couple, Married Sex, Missionary Position, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Partnership, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Assault, Peril, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension, Stakeout, Surgery, Therapy, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 62,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned's second year of marriage begins with a murder mystery, and Ned's decision to return to school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> littlemsmessy preferred this story in its original form, as a Nancy/Ned fanfic; in a small way, this is for her. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Please note that this picks up almost immediately after the farther i fall, so if it's been a while you might want to re-read or skim chapter 17 of that story.

Ned Nickerson closed the front door of their townhouse after he brought the last of the luggage inside. He had been trying to find the right way to phrase it, but when his wife walked back into the living room from the kitchen, her expression tired but her eyes bright, Ned found the words were still eluding him.

"What the blue _hell_ , Nan?"

She raised the glass of water to her lips and took a long sip, letting him wait. "What?" she asked innocently after she lowered it again.

Even though Ned was exhausted, he had been with Nancy long enough to know that expression, and it was hard, but he held his tongue. "What just happened?" he settled on. That sounded neutral enough.

She put the glass down on the kitchen counter, then reached for two of the bags and headed for the stairs. "C'mon," she said.

Despite how seductively the bed was calling to him—and he was going to need to turn in at least a half-day of work the next day—Ned hoped that she wasn't just going to ask him to sleep on it. He made sure the door was locked, then hefted the rest of the bags and followed her.

They brushed their teeth, set their alarms, and Nancy tugged a well-worn gray t-shirt over her head before she collapsed to their bed, looking just as exhausted as Ned felt. "Come here," she murmured, and Ned slipped his arm around her, pulling her to him.

He remembered her telling him that if she worked with Frank and Joe again, especially on a permanent basis, she couldn't shake the feeling that she would be hurt. Ned couldn't bear the thought of that happening, and that had made their discussion all the less comprehensible for him.

It was a case, though. And she didn't turn down cases.

After Frank Hardy had told them that Theresa Hutton, the woman Nancy had apparently been employed to impersonate the day of their departure for their anniversary trip, had disappeared, Nancy had immediately agreed to help find her. Apparently it had taken Network a while to determine that the information "Theresa," in actuality Nancy, had passed along was incorrect, and then to find out that Theresa had vanished. The last time she had been seen wasn't true, either, since "Theresa" had actually been Nancy.

And then Nancy had told Frank that while they were working on the case, it made sense for him to just stay at their place. She had only glanced over at Ned after the fact, and her expression hadn't even been pleading. He had let it pass, trying to tell himself that she had a reason for it... but knowing that Frank would be in their _house_ with them made Ned's skin crawl. Frank already had a room for the night, but he had agreed readily enough to check out the next morning and stay in their second bedroom for the rest of the time he was spending in Chicago.

Nancy sighed and nuzzled against her husband's chest. "First off, thanks for not totally losing it," she murmured. "I could tell you wanted to."

"I did lose it," Ned murmured. "Just extremely quietly."

Nancy chuckled quietly. "Even if I had told him I couldn't help him, he would still be at Trent's agency poking around," she pointed out. "And I would have needed to talk to him anyway. And I feel bad that I was probably involved in the cover-up of her disappearance, even if I didn't know at the time."

"Which all makes sense," Ned said evenly.

"But you don't want him here," Nancy said.

"I don't," Ned admitted. "I don't want him anywhere near you. I don't want him to get you into some other damn situation and get you hurt. Why...?"

"So that Frank doesn't invite me back to his hotel room and hope that one thing leads to another," she murmured. "Because he'll be here, and what better way to emphasize to him the fact that I'm married than for him to know that you're either here or will be here soon?"

Ned made a soft _hmmph_ sound. "You mean other than the fact that he was at our _wedding_? He saw us say our vows to each other?"

"That's one thing, and it is very much the best day of my life," she told him, and planted a soft kiss against his bare chest. "But that is very different from you, in the flesh—ready and able to kick his ass if he tries anything."

"Mmm," Ned grumbled. "I guess I get it." His tone was reluctant.

"And I hate that working on this might keep me away from you for longer than I want, especially since you'll be starting school again soon. This way at least if he wants to brainstorm or whatever, we can be here... all three of us."

"Yeah, because that's what I like. Knowing I can't just fuck you in the recliner or the living room rug whenever we want."

"Ahh," she murmured, and stroked her palm down his side. "Or the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the table..."

Ned groaned. "Way to undermine your argument, honey."

" _But_ ," she continued, "that definitely doesn't mean you can't throw me over your shoulder and carry me upstairs... and then do everything you can to make me scream loud enough for him to hear us."

Ned gave another thoughtful grumble. "Well, when you put it _that_ way..."

Nancy chuckled. "Thought that might change your mind," she said teasingly.

\--

In the morning, while Ned couldn't say that he was really at peace with his wife's decision, he had accepted it. It could have been that he had more pressing matters on his mind, though. They both woke, groaning, when the alarm went off.

Nancy clumsily subdued it, then collapsed back to the mattress with a relieved sigh. The night had never truly grown cool, and they had tossed back the heavy coverlet in their sleep. The sheet was twisted and barely covered their legs, and Ned knew exactly where the sunlight was coming in without looking; he could feel it on his bare chest.

They weren't back at work yet. Maybe their time off was nearly over, but it wasn't totally over yet.

Ned opened his eyes with a soft sigh, and Nancy grumbled softly beside him. She had her arm tossed over her eyes to keep the sunlight out, and her shirt had ridden up to reveal a strip of deliciously tanned flesh above the band of her panties.

Ned reached for that bare flesh, his touch ticklish-light, his gaze on her face, and she immediately flinched when he touched her, her arm shifting. "Mmm," she murmured. "Gotta get up?"

"Well, not quite yet... we could save time if we shower together," Ned pointed out, and Nancy squealed when he grasped her hips and rolled her on top of him. Her red-gold hair, lightened by all the sun they'd had on their trip, fell over her freckled cheeks as she pushed herself up, her blue eyes alight as she laughed.

Her grin became a smile, and she leaned down and brushed the tip of her nose against his, then kissed his earlobe, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I can't believe our vacation's over," she sighed.

"We have a few more minutes," he told her. "It's not quite over yet. I won't let it be."

She pulled back and gazed down at him again, and Ned's heart was full as he looked up at her. He reached for the hem of her shirt and she let him pull it off her, and she was wearing only her panties and her wedding rings as she straddled him.

"I love you so much," she whispered, soft as a secret, and she arched into his touch as  he stroked his fingertips down her bare sides. "Oh, Ned..."

"And I love you, Nan," he murmured. "So much. So fucking much."

He sat up and she slipped her arms around him, her bare breasts pressed to his chest. When her lips touched his neck Ned shivered, his fingertips gliding up the line of her spine. He had always loved how soft her skin felt against his, and the subtle trace of her perfume still lingered.

God. If she hadn't invited Frank to stay with them, Ned would've been reenacting their vacation every night. As it was, he was tempted to try it anyway.

"We need to get in the shower," he groaned.

"Mmm-hmm," she agreed, her fingers sliding into his hair, her nails dragging gently against his scalp.

"Nancy," Ned growled, but he was smiling when she pulled back to look into his face.

"Yes, handsome?" she murmured, her eyes twinkling.

"Multitask," he told her, an answering gleam in his own eye.

\--

Ned left for work before Nancy did, when she was in their bathroom wearing a white sleeveless button-down and a gray skirt, intentionally dressed more plainly than she normally would be. She didn't want to give Frank the wrong impression. She wore the heart pendant Ned had given her just as she usually did, the top of it showing where her shirt opened. She was trying to get her mindset right, but whenever she looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, as she put on her makeup, she was glowing. Ned had taken his time with her in the shower, and she had known what he was doing when he sucked hard at the side of her neck, but she hadn't stopped him. In fact, it had only made the sex hotter.

She made a token effort to hide the hickey Ned had left on the side of her neck, but she didn't use her heavy-duty concealer.

Frank. She couldn't remember the last time she had spent any real length of time alone with him.

Not that they would truly be alone, she reminded herself. They would be investigating, and with any luck they would find Theresa today, and she wouldn't have to watch the territorial pissing contest between her husband and her former lover play out over a series of awkward meals and evenings together.

Oh, her feet had been happy in all the sandals and flip-flops she had worn in the islands. Sliding her feet into high-heeled pumps made her wince. Maybe if she was sweet to him, she could persuade Ned to give her a foot massage later.

Frank had arranged to meet Nancy at Trent's office first thing that morning, and she arrived right on time, arranging her features into a pleasant, neutral smile before she rose from the Mustang's driver's seat. "Morning."

"Morning," Frank replied, his own smile easy enough. Frank looked the way he always had to her, but oh, that couldn't be true. For years she had trusted him, nursed a crush on him, and even in some small way encouraged his own crush on her, despite Frank's longtime girlfriend Callie, despite Nancy's own relationship with Ned. Despite everyone. Despite her better judgement.

But her fear lingered now, and the dead scar tissue in her chest ached with it. Even though she and Frank were both more experienced now, seeing Frank always reminded her of the night she had been shot. She had a feeling that no matter what else she went through, and she had been in much worse situations since that terrible night, she would never be more painfully aware of her own mortality than she was around him.

She saw no way around it, though. She was going to have to work with Frank; she was already involved, and she felt partially responsible in Theresa's disappearance. That didn't mean she wouldn't be cautious, though.

They went inside to talk to Trent before they headed out in Frank's rental car. "Want to grab a cup of coffee and go over our game plan?" Frank asked, glancing over at her.

"Sure."

She directed him to a nearby independent coffee shop, and when they pulled up, all the patio tables were occupied by patrons taking advantage of the beautiful summer weather. Frank ordered an oversized banana nut muffin to go with his large coffee, and Nancy couldn't resist ordering a mocha. As they waited for their drinks, she pulled out her phone.

_What do I need to promise u to get a foot massage tonight? My heels are killing me._

"So you had a good trip?"

Nancy put her phone away and nodded. "I can't wait until Ned and I can get out of town again," she said with a smile.

Frank shook his head. "I remember when vacations would practically make you insane with boredom."

"Guess it just depends on the company," she said lightly as the barista announced Frank's order was ready. They found a seat and she could tell when Frank noticed the hickey, and she wondered if Ned was somehow feeling a corresponding rush of triumph at his own workplace across Chicago.

"So what was in the packet I delivered to the agent before we left?"

"Forged documents," Frank said, his tone more brisk. He began to peel the wrapper off the muffin. "But very well forged documents."

"About what?"

"Mmm. Why don't I back up?" Frank said. "Start from the beginning."

Theresa had contacted a Network agent two days before the pass, but she had been incredibly cautious about it. It hadn't been through regular channels. Theresa was old friends with Randolph Dieter, and she had contacted him through personal email addresses, using only vague references. Something strange was going on at her workplace, something Theresa feared would be somehow blamed on her or used to discredit her, and she had taken all the evidence she could and passed it on before it was destroyed. She had apparently been too nervous about it being traced back to her to trust any electronic methods of delivery.

"So that's what was in the envelope," Nancy said, her eyes widening in dismay. "Or what should have been, anyway. Any idea where the envelope is now?"

Frank shook his head. "We have to find the original envelope, or at least what information is inside—but more importantly we need to find Theresa."

"Can one of us get in at her workplace? Whatever's there, if they haven't destroyed it already—"

"They do _a lot_ of government contracts. It would be difficult to forge the kind of credentials we'd need in any reasonable length of time."

"But not _impossible,_ " Nancy pointed out before taking another sip of her mocha.

\--

At the end of the workday, Ned checked his phone. Nancy had suggested Mexican for dinner, and Ned knew her; if he went to the store and bought a taco kit and the ingredients, he would end up making it. Which wasn't a big deal, but after working all day, Ned just wanted to put his feet up and stop thinking for a while. He replied asking if they wanted to meet at the restaurant near their house, and Nancy replied that that would be okay, around six.

Ned's stomach clenched when he saw that. When he had been in school before, in high school and at Emerson, he could have counted on his fingers the number of times she had shown up on time for meals, or even dates in general. Knowing that she was with Hardy right now...

Ned shook his head as he started for home. The more work they did on the case now, the quicker Hardy would be heading back to New York, and the sooner Ned could relax. Besides, he had a little detective work of his own to do.

Ned knew he could contact the same guy who had helped him identify Jamie in the first place, but given everything else, he didn't want any more people involved now than absolutely necessary. He changed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, washed his face, and touched his wedding band as he headed downstairs to his laptop. He wanted a beer, but he didn't want to waste cab fare getting to the restaurant.

_Nancy_.

He had thought he was addicted to her before, but a year of marriage later, along with all the time they had spent together in the islands, made every moment they were apart seem to grate on him. He didn't want to think it was because she was with Frank...

He hoped to God that Frank remembered what Ned had told him soon after their engagement. If Nancy was hurt while she was with Frank, Ned would lose his mind.

Ned put that thought out of his head, but that didn't help dispel the anxiety. He always felt aware, even if it wasn't nervousness, when she was at work. He had adored being around her so much during their vacation, relaxed and confident in the knowledge that she was safe with him. Mike often half-joked that he was desperate for a night of guy time away from his wife, especially since Jan was pregnant and cranky. Ned felt the opposite; he did love to hang out with his cousin and his friends, watching the game and goofing off together, but he also loved that his wife was nearby or at home and would be waiting for him. Then again, Mike and Jan had been together all through their time at Emerson. Ned had been busy burning his way through every attractive co-ed he saw, trying to forget Nancy. For a time, he had even convinced himself that he had.

If Nancy were pregnant... he thought with some amusement of that morning's text request for a foot massage. If his wife were pregnant, for that entire time he would either be with her or thinking about her. Midnight grocery runs for ice cream or nacho ingredients, foot rubs, all of it; he wouldn't begrudge a single minute of it, even if Mike swore he would.

Ned took a deep breath and pulled up Jamie's Facebook page, a chill going down his spine as he saw the smiling face of the man who had raped his wife four years earlier.

At the appointed time, Ned glanced up and closed his laptop. He definitely didn't want to keep Frank and Nancy waiting; Ned had been waiting so long to see her, and he remembered again what she had said about his presence serving to deter any passes Frank might make at her. If she wanted him around for that, he was definitely going to oblige her. He saw her familiar Mustang in the parking lot, the car that she had joked Carson had fully rebuilt twice over from all the repairs she had needed after he gave her the car, and she was just sliding out of the driver's seat.

_How is it possible_ , he wondered again, _that she still stops my heart every damn time..._

And the grin Nancy gave Ned when she saw him—he didn't understand how Hannah and Carson had ever denied her anything she wanted. They really were going to be in trouble if they had a baby. He was already utterly devoted to his wife, and a miniature version of either of them would capture him completely.

Frank had followed Nancy to the restaurant, and he emerged from his rental car wearing a pair of sunglasses, his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. Most of the time Ned had seen him when they were younger, they had all been in jeans and t-shirts. Seeing the younger man this way reminded Ned of times they would impersonate people to get past security; he couldn't imagine Frank looking like this every day, or holding down a real job. Just like a part of him bristled every time he saw Frank look at Nancy.

Ned saw the faint mark of her poorly concealed hickey just before she embraced him, and he couldn't quite suppress the smirk that rose in response. "Hey baby," Ned greeted his wife, holding her tight in return, and her face lit up in a grin. "How'd it go?"

Nancy wrinkled her freckle-dusted nose. "Wasted a few hours this afternoon trying to figure out who hired the agency for this case," she told him, lacing her fingers through his as the three of them headed into the restaurant. "Frank, any luck?"

Frank and Nancy filled Ned in on the case and their progress using broad strokes between munching on warm crispy tortilla chips and cold salsa. When the waitress came to take their drink orders, Ned ordered a beer without thinking too hard about it. A large chattering group had just come in and headed for the bar, one of them declaring that they were going to start the weekend early, and looking at Jamie's Facebook page had done nothing to calm Ned's nerves. Between them, though, Ned's fingers were laced through Nancy's, and the light in her eyes and genuine enthusiasm in her expression drew his gaze to her the way they always had. Her slender arms were tanned, the fine hair on her forearms bleached almost white in the sun, and her damn button-down top made Ned fantasize about unfastening each one, kissing his way down her firm slender body, pushing the hem of her tight skirt up around her hips—

"We need to go check out Theresa's house, tonight," Frank was saying just before he crunched into another tortilla chip.

Ned glanced up as he both heard and felt his wife quietly sigh beside him. She had told Ned that she was going to spend as much time with him as she possibly could before he started school, but he knew that she hadn't planned on this kind of case happening.

"So no one's heard from her?" Ned asked, reaching for his beer.

Frank shook his head. "I checked with Dieter earlier. Still no outgoing activity on her cell phone, no sign that she's been using her personal email account. She could be on the run, but she might have left some clue behind just in case."

"The cops? Any missing persons report?" Ned asked.

"I can have Dieter check on that too... I called her workplace today and asked to speak to her, but the call went to her voicemail. I was doing some interviews; Dieter arranged to have the agent meet Theresa at a drugstore a few blocks from her work, and then the message came asking to change their meeting place to the lobby of the hotel, which is where Nancy met the real agent. So presumably Theresa met with someone who intercepted the information at that drugstore, but the security footage has been overwritten already, and none of the clerks remember seeing her there." Frank sighed in disgust. "Plus, whoever took that envelope is most likely long gone by now."

"Well..." Their waitress was at the next table, and Ned considered for a moment. "Checking out her house wouldn't take long, right?"

"Depends, but probably not," Frank answered.

Ned shrugged. "We could all go," he suggested. "Three pairs of eyes are better than two, right?"

Nancy glanced over at him. "You... are you sure?"

"Sure," Ned replied with another shrug. "Time is of the essence, right? The sooner she's found, the better."

Luckily the restaurant's service was excellent, but that still left Ned unwilling to drive after quickly finishing off his beer. He was clear-headed but he had a mild buzz going, and they decided to leave Nancy's Mustang in the parking lot, leave Frank's rental car at their house, and head out together in Ned's car.

Nancy took the wheel as she led the way to their townhouse, then glanced over at Ned at the first stop sign. "Hey," she said softly, and Ned glanced up at her face.

"Hey, babe."

"Is this okay?"

"Sure," he told her easily. "Really, Nan. I'd rather be there with you anyway."

She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you're not upset," she said softly.

He smiled. "You know... you came to dinner on time," he pointed out.

"Of course I did. I didn't want to make you wait."

Ned leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You don't get it... you were there on time."

She was quiet for a minute. "Just wanted to make sure I didn't lose out on that foot massage," she replied lightly, a smile in her voice.

\--

Theresa's home was in a suburb of Chicago, but not quite as far outside town as Mapleton or River Heights. The house was a pleasant one-story in an established neighborhood, with a single-car garage. Nancy parked Ned's car in the driveway, noting the stack of uncollected newspapers at the street, and resisted the urge to glance around. A tall hedge kept the yard partially out of the neighbors' view, but children were darting around on the lawns opposite, chasing each other with water guns. The tantalizing scent of charcoal and grilling steaks wafted in, and though Nancy was still full from dinner, she made a mental note to pick up some steaks during her next grocery trip so they could grill over the weekend.

"Got your lockpick kit handy, Drew?"

Nancy ignored Frank's use of her maiden name; without even glancing over at him, she could tell it was grating on Ned. "Sure," she said. "Frank, why don't you check the mail while we handle the door?"

The trick to breaking in anywhere was acting natural, definitely not nervous or guilty. On the way to Theresa's front door Nancy reached over and grabbed Ned's hand, giving it a squeeze. She was still wearing her damn heels, and she wished she had taken the time to put on flats while they were dropping off Frank's car at the house.

Nancy reached into her purse, shielding what she was doing from view as she studied the lock and selected two slender tools. When she was a teenager, Carson had lectured her on only using the picks as a last resort and never to break the law when he gave them to her, but the first time she had used them to unlock his office door so he could retrieve his keys, she could tell he was pleased with the purchase and her extensive practice. After that he had brought home battered and unusual locks for her to practice on, and she had gotten so good that she could figure out most of them by feel in pitch darkness if she needed to. Ordinarily she would have scouted the area around Theresa's house for likely locations of spare keys, but given the number of potential witnesses, she didn't want to draw any more attention to them than absolutely necessary.

The house felt stuffy when they walked in. The light in the kitchen was on, and Nancy listened for the telltale chirp of an alarm system registering their entry, but she didn't hear one or spot any other telltale signs. Frank entered just after they did, a large stack of mail in his hand.

"No sign of a struggle," Ned murmured, and Nancy cast a pleased glance at him. The only times Ned had ever enjoyed investigations were when he was spending time with her, and while he was good at it, and she loved to have him as a sounding board when she was brainstorming, it wasn't his passion. He had learned a lot from his time with her, though.

"I'll go check her computer," Frank said quietly. "If she brought any of her work home, I might find it there." He handed the stack of mail to Nancy, and she flipped through it as he set off to find her computer.

"What do you want me to do, Nan?" Ned asked softly.

Nancy bit her lip. If Theresa had fled, if she'd had time, she would have packed some belongings, but she didn't exactly expect Ned to be able to pick up on those subtle signs. "I'm going to check her bedroom. Can you check the garage? If her car's here, at least we'll know we can't find her that way."

Nancy found Frank in the bedroom, his hands on his hips. "Lost?" she asked.

Frank shook his head. "I found a place where a laptop _should_ be, but no laptop."

"Charger?"

Frank shook his head. "Nope. No charger. Cell phone charger, though."

"Uh... guys?"

Nancy left Frank behind, walking to the kitchen and the sound of her husband's voice. "What is it?"

"I found her." Ned's voice was grim.

\--

In the time it took for the police to arrive, Nancy went outside and found the concealed emergency key in the third place she checked. She didn't want to answer any questions about how they had managed to get into the house without it, but she used a tissue to handle the box and the key. Both she and Frank had the ability to find any fingerprints that had been left on it, but Nancy didn't feel particularly optimistic, not with how well the scene had been staged.

According to the patrolman who showed up in response to the 911 call, Theresa's brother, who lived in Washington, had asked the police to come by and check the house a few days earlier when he hadn't been able to get in touch with his sister. A patrolman had come by, but the house had been dark and he hadn't seen anything suspicious. When the brother had asked about filing a missing persons report, they had contacted Theresa's workplace and found out she had taken a week's vacation. The brother had tried to raise a fuss, but there were convenient explanations: her cell phone was dead because she had forgotten her charger; she had taken a cab or a friend had given her a ride to the airport; it had been a spontaneous trip.

The worst part, to Nancy anyway, was the thought that if she had known something was wrong, if she had alerted someone in time... but she hadn't known, and there was nothing she could do about it now.

The patrolman accepted their story that they were concerned friends who had stopped by and used the spare key, but he also seemed to believe that Theresa had committed suicide. Nancy and Frank had done a careful, if brief, inspection of the body before his arrival, and Nancy had seen what she thought was a bruise on Theresa's scalp. Her theory was that someone Theresa knew had come to her door and gained entry, then knocked her out and staged her death as a suicide. The cursory search still hadn't revealed her laptop, though. A few photos had been pinned up on a corkboard next to Theresa's desk, with some notes to herself. Nancy snapped some pictures of the board with her camera phone for reference later. She wished they had more time to go through everything, but it couldn't be helped. Nancy had to work in Chicago, and sometimes needed favors from law enforcement officers; she had no intention of pissing any of them off unless she had to.

After they had been dismissed from the scene, the three of them left in Ned's car, each lost in thought. Ned had seen dead bodies before, but Nancy still hated that he had been the one to discover Theresa's.

Frank was the first to speak. "Someone at her work told the police she was on vacation," he said. "This all goes back to her work. Something's going on there. We have to get in."

"Not tonight," Ned said immediately.

"Well, no, not tonight," Frank replied. "We'll go in the morning."

Nancy glanced over at her husband. "You okay to drive?" she asked gently.

He nodded. "Yeah. Trust me, I am nowhere near drunk right now. Especially after that."

Back at their townhouse, Frank brought his bags inside as Nancy went to the upstairs bathroom to take her makeup off, then to the bedroom to change into a tank top and a pair of cotton shorts. She closed her eyes in pleasure when she was able to slip out of her heels and put them in their customary place in the closet, and she heard Frank in the next bedroom getting settled.

Ned tapped twice on the door before he came inside. "You all right?" he murmured.

Nancy nodded, pulling her hair up and into a loose messy ponytail. She was still wearing the necklace, but now it was in plain view, over her tank top. "Trying to figure out the best way to get in tomorrow," she murmured. "Frank can try to bluff his way in with his Network ID, but that would leave me out, or we can find some other way in..."

"You said you were having trouble finding out who hired you to impersonate Theresa?"

Nancy nodded, and Ned grabbed a bottle of lotion off the bedside table before he followed her downstairs. Frank was already sitting in the recliner, wearing a NYU t-shirt and cargo shorts, and Nancy didn't miss Ned's smirk when they saw where Frank was. Given how long Nancy had been Ned's girlfriend before she had agreed to sleep with him, she supposed his relish and exuberance, and even pride, about their sex life was understandable, and the recliner had been the site of a lot of it.

Even though Ned put the lotion down on the coffee table and gave her an expectant glance—and Nancy remembered with a lurch of her stomach about the condoms they kept in the basket on the shelf beneath the surface of the table—she offered to serve drinks anyway, and came back with another beer for Ned and a bottle of water for Frank. She sat down at the end of the couch opposite Ned and cracked open a can of soda, then moved her feet up onto the couch. Ned lifted them into his lap and Nancy's lashes fluttered down for a second in anticipation.

"About who hired me—well, Trent's agency," Nancy began, as Ned began to wash her tired feet. "Ohhhh God. You win for today," she told him.

Ned chuckled. "Thanks, sweetheart."

"Anyway," Nancy said, forcing herself to focus. "Ned was asking me... It was a rush job, and all the communication was via email through a freebie account. Local IP address, of course. The charge went through on a preloaded debit card."

"Was the debit card bought around here?"

Ned had finished washing her feet and was smoothing lotion onto them, working it into the soles, and Nancy slumped to the arm of the couch, her lashes fluttering down again. "Mmm. I'll check in the morning," she murmured.

Frank was glancing between Nancy and Ned, and through her lashes she could see that Frank's gaze wasn't on her face. She pushed herself up, trying to make her pose a little less provocative, but she was pretty sure she only managed to make it worse. Especially when one deft flick of Ned's fingers made her groan quietly in pleasure.

"Might be better if we split up tomorrow," Frank volunteered. "I'll go to MorCom and talk to the people she works—worked with."

"And after I call around about the debit card, I'll go talk to the people in her neighborhood and see if they saw any strange cars around... and I'll definitely be wearing flats. Mmm. That feels so good..."

Ned had taken her left foot in both hands and was digging the balls of his thumbs against the sole, and she arched, sighing. If they were alone she would definitely have slipped her other foot against his crotch and used it to tease him until he threw her over his shoulder and carried her upstairs. She had been coiled tense for a lot of the day, and she didn't want to have to perform in front of Frank anymore. She just wanted to be alone and relaxing with her husband.

And that, she admitted to herself with a sigh, was exactly why he had silently objected to Frank being their houseguest. Ned loved that, too.

"So we'll meet for lunch, compare notes?"

And _that_ was why she had invited him. Nancy nodded. "Sounds good."

Frank reached into the bag beside him and pulled out a laptop. "Well, if I can get your WiFi password..."

After the foot massage was over, Ned left Nancy's feet in his lap and she stretched with a sigh. Ned turned on the television, although he kept the volume low, and Nancy moved to his side, cuddling up against her husband. He slipped his arm around her and she sighed as she laid her head against his shoulder.

She hesitated, but she didn't want to just wait until they were alone, and she asked Ned about how his day had gone. He replied to her quietly, both of them mindful that Frank was doing some research, but when he heard Ned mention graduate school, he brought his head up and gave Ned a smile.

"Congratulations. I didn't know you were going back to school."

"Thought it would be a good idea," Ned said. "The next session is starting soon. It'll be strange to get back into it after being out for so long."

Nancy went to the kitchen and brought back the grocery list pad, asking Ned what he wanted for the rest of the week. He told her that he would pick up the groceries on his way home the next day, and she smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Too soon, though, both Nancy and Ned were tired thanks to a full workday and all the traveling they had done the day before. They told Frank goodnight, and Ned grabbed Nancy's hand on the way upstairs.

"How tired are you feeling, sweetheart?" Ned murmured when they reached the head of the stairs.

"Mmm. Tired enough," she told him softly. "But I can be persuaded to feel otherwise."

\--

Ned could remember when their time together had all been stolen, when just the act of closing a bedroom door behind them was enough to make them practically attack each other. Living together and a year of marriage meant that they brushed their teeth and cleaned up for bed, plugged in their phones to charge, set the alarms so they would get up on time in the morning instead of just chasing each other, laughing, into the bedroom.

Then Ned rolled onto his side, facing his wife. She had turned on the bedside lamp, and her lips were turned up in a small smile. She reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin. "You okay?"

He had come across worse deaths while helping her, but that wasn't exactly comforting. He moved closer to her, his hand moving under the covers to cup her slender waist. All too often he became aware of how fragile this breathing cage of blood and bone really was.

"Yeah," he murmured, and he felt her shiver under him as he caught the hem of her shirt and began to push it up. The way she closed her eyes was like liquid, like visible speechless desire.

The hunger only kept growing. It came back to him, half-remembered— _as though appetite grew by what it fed upon._ It was no longer about showing Frank. He just needed her. He could taste sunlight on her skin, and the warm breathing feel of her, the light drag of her nails against his scalp as she returned his kiss, the flutter of her lashes against his cheek... Theresa's skin had been warm from the heat in the garage, but not warm enough, and feeling for a pulse he had known wouldn't be there, trying not to remember his nightmares, that had been worse.

He pushed her tank top above her loose breasts and she rolled onto her back, her fingers threaded through his hair, cupping the back of his head as he began to kiss and nuzzle his way down. He planted light kisses against her lower belly until she giggled and squirmed under him, pushing down the side of her panties.

When she was naked he pushed himself up to face her again, and her beautiful blue eyes were sparkling when she looked up at him. She helped pull his shirt over his head, her knees bent and legs open to him, cradling his hips between her thighs.

"Ned?" she breathed.

"Yeah, baby?"

Her gaze lingered on his lips, and she traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, the angle of his jaw. "My heart still skips a beat every time I look at you," she whispered. "Only you, Ned Nickerson. Always and ever you."

He held her gaze as he lowered himself slowly to her, until her face filled his vision. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"As long as it's a good one," she breathed, trailing her fingertips down from the nape of his neck, over his spine.

"The first time I look into your eyes after we've been apart, my heart stops for a second," he murmured, and kissed her gently, then smiled against her lips. "Like it's matched to yours, like it has been ever since the first time I ever looked into your face. It belongs to you, Nancy Drew Nickerson. Always has, always will."

He kissed the flesh just above the heart pendant hanging around her neck, and when she twined her long legs around him, he kissed his way back up her neck, and then his lips met hers in a long deep kiss.

They were just pulling Ned's underwear off when they heard Frank coming up the stairs, and Ned glanced into Nancy's face. Her lips were twisted in an expression between disapproval and desire; he slipped off the bed and dragged her hips to the edge, and she resigned herself to him with a sigh of anticipation.

A breathy gasp escaped her on his first thrust, her legs twined around his waist again, her nails digging into his shoulder blades. The bedsprings creaked under them and the door of the guest bedroom closed, the pipes still gurgling faintly. Ned locked his gaze to Nancy's and she bit her lip, then bucked under him as he began to rub his thumb against her clit.

"Ned," she whimpered, her brow creasing.

"Yes," he whispered, driving hard into the slick press of her sex.

He worked in her in long regular thrusts, his thumb evenly stroking her clit, and it never failed to amaze him, that moment when her clear desire and arousal peaked and she began to come. Her cunt had been pulsing weakly around him, and then she arched under him, sucking in a sharp sob. The springs were creaking under their combined weight as he picked up speed, her skin gleaming from the exertion, and at the apex of his next thrust she clenched tight around his cock. "Oh _yes_ ," she moaned, her heels digging into the small of his back so she could angle her hips up to meet his thrusts, and her ragged breathing was edged in quiet whimpering.

"Mine," Ned breathed, shifting his weight. He grabbed one of her hands and laced his fingers between hers, pinning it over her head, and she tried to stifle her next sob.

"You feel so good," he growled. "Oh, so fucking good, Nan. Do that again, baby."

She tipped her head back, panting desperately as her inner flesh clenched again, and when he flicked her clit a little harder she thrashed, quietly sobbing in pleasure. When he brought his hand away she whined in disappointment, rocking her hips and seeking the friction again as she panted more loudly. Ned pulled her a few inches forward, and her eyes were gleaming as he shifted his weight and drove into her from the new angle.

Nancy cried out, her fingers tightening between his, and Ned nuzzled the side of her neck where he had left the hickey before latching onto the other side. She squirmed under him, but he didn't suck on her neck long enough to leave a lasting mark. Every thrust provoked another breathless cry, and he knew she was still stifling herself. Despite her teasing about letting Frank hear them, Nancy wasn't an exhibitionist. He had noticed her discomfort downstairs when Frank had been watching her almost orgasmic response to his foot massage. Ned had a feeling that Frank was perfectly aware of what they were doing, though. The regular groan and squeal of the bedsprings was more than enough of a clue.

"Ned," she whimpered. "Ned, oh _fuck_..."

He took pity on her and arched over her to seal his mouth against hers, and she bucked, tensing under him as he gave her clit one last rough flick with his thumb, driving his full length between her thighs. She screamed and he felt it vibrate against his lips as he let himself come inside her, their bodies sealed tight and wrapped around each other. He felt her slump to the bed and let himself relax too, pinning her heavily under him.

Ned's heart was just beginning to slow when he broke the kiss, and Nancy was gasping her breath back. "Oh," she moaned softly. "Oh holy _shit_."

"Mmm-hmm," Ned agreed, releasing her hand. When he loosely cupped her hips, she flinched, still oversensitive, then brought her own hands up and cupped the back of his head. She tilted her head and pressed her lips against the underside of his jaw, still panting softly.

He tipped his head down and brushed his lips against hers, closing his eyes. He was still mostly off the bed, and when he lifted Nancy's hips and braced them to shift his weight, she let out a soft cry, then parted her lips under his.

Nancy swirled her nails over his shoulder blades before Ned pushed himself to his feet, gazing down at her. She stretched, naked, the join of her thighs faintly gleaming, and Ned let out a long satisfied sigh as he pulled a few tissues out of the box and cleaned her up.

He was a little disappointed when she reached for her panties and slipped them back on, but he understood, and put his own underwear back on too. She cuddled up against him when she was back in her tank top, despite the heat, and Ned wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead, her cheekbone.

"I know you'll be careful tomorrow," he whispered. "I know you'll come back home to me in one piece. You will."

Nancy kissed the center of his chest. "Mmm-hmm," she murmured. "I'll be fine, babe."

When he grasped the hem of her tank top and drew it up again, she made a soft protesting noise, but Ned ducked down and kissed the round scar in her chest. "You can't have her," he whispered against the paler flesh. "You can't have her."

Then he nuzzled against her bare breast and Nancy sighed, arching when he drew her nipple into his mouth. "Baby," she murmured, in the faintest protest, but she ran her fingers through his hair, shifting onto her back. "We have to get up early..."

"Mmm-hmm." Ned cupped her other breast and Nancy shuddered under him with a sigh, bringing her leg up to drape it around his waist and drawing him to her again.

\--

The weather was bright and pretty; Nancy pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and slipped them on as she exited the train station, glancing around. Maybe the morning had been otherwise sucky, but at least her three-block walk to the tavern wouldn't be miserable.

Despite herself, she was actually, just a little, looking forward to meeting Frank for lunch. If he hadn't found anything at MorCom, she would be surprised. Nancy had placed the call to the company which sold the prepaid debit card used to hire Trent's agency, but since she didn't have a warrant or any other legal grounds for her search, she had told them it had been used for fraudulent purposes, and had been assured she would receive a return call; she had made herself a mental note to call again the next morning. Canvassing Theresa's neighbors had been just as fruitless. Most of them were away from home when she came by, and Nancy doubted they had seen anything anyway. It had been a long shot to begin with.

One thing she had been able to do, though, had been to sneak back into Theresa's house for another search. Since the police hadn't made any official ruling yet on her death, other than to lean toward an explanation of accidental or self-inflicted death, Nancy hadn't found crime scene tape or a seal on the door. Theresa's body had been removed and some of her possessions had been moved or removed, but her car was still there; the scent of death lingered in it and in the garage. Nancy had taken out her fingerprint kit and dusted the car door, especially where someone would have closed it after staging Theresa's body inside. She had found a few smudged prints and taken photographs of them with her. If push came to shove, she could contact a friend she had on the local force and make sure they had the evidence; by then, Nancy hoped she would already know and have other proof or a confession from the person who was responsible for Theresa's death, and she wouldn't have to get into sticky issues like chain of custody about the fingerprints.

She just hadn't been able to leave with _nothing_ , not while she knew that Frank was most likely gathering a ton of clues. That had driven her crazy.

Nancy had taken the time to do a more thorough search for the laptop, just in case they had missed it on their first pass, but she hadn't found it. If they found the laptop, though, she was pretty sure it would be in Theresa's killer's possession, so she was hopeful.

Nancy's phone vibrated in her purse when she was a block away from the tavern. She pulled it out, half-expecting to see a message from Frank telling her that he was running late. Chicago traffic could be a real bitch to navigate at lunchtime; Nancy had left her Mustang parked in a lot and had taken the train to avoid the worst of it.

Instead, she saw a message from Ned. _Hope you had a good morning. Love you, baby._

She smiled. _It's better, now._ _Love you too._

Before she walked into the dim restaurant, Nancy's fingertips touched the heart pendant, just visible under the opening of her collar. For her morning canvassing, she had selected an olive-green sleeveless button-down belted dress and flats; it was just unassuming enough, just inconspicuous enough, and it looked like a vague generic uniform.

The tavern was doing a bustling lunch trade, and Nancy put her name down with the hostess and waited a moment before Frank came in. He was just a little out of breath, but he gave her a wide grin anyway. "Sorry I was late. Traffic..."

He gave her a vague handwave, and she nodded. "So how'd it go?"

Frank's jacket was off, and his shirtsleeves rolled up. He had dressed the part of a potential government contractor. "Pretty good so far. But we can talk about it once we sit down."

Soon a table opened up, and a hostess seated them. Nancy glanced over the menu and asked for a glass of water with lemon; Frank ordered a soda, which Nancy knew would leave him dry-mouthed and thirsty before the end of their meal. Then again, Frank was a soda junkie; he practically lived on the stuff while he was working.

"So anything good this morning?" he asked, once the waitress had left them alone to look over the menu.

Nancy shrugged, impatient to get to whatever he had done or figured out. "Not really," she admitted, filling him in. She had made some progress, but nowhere near as much as she had hoped. "So? Anything at MorCom?"

Frank cast a casual glance around before he looked back at her. "Tell you in a minute."

Nancy was unsurprised when the waitress arrived thirty seconds later with their drinks. While Frank was being very cautious, she couldn't really blame him. They still didn't know who had killed Theresa or intercepted her message.

"Laid some groundwork, really, but all I've managed to do so far is get this." Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a high-level-clearance visitor's badge, then passed it to her. She glanced from the badge to his face. "I told them that my boss," he gave her a significant nod, "would be coming by this afternoon and would want a tour just to make sure the company's security was up to par."

Nancy chuckled. "So while I'm distracting people..."

"I'll find her office or cubicle or wherever she was most of the time, and see what I can find out there."

"Have you talked to anyone about her? Found out anything?"

While they waited for their meal and after it arrived, Frank gave her his impressions of the place—and despite how she felt about him and their history together, she had to admit that he had done a pretty good job. He had talked to the security staff and some of the development people and found out what department Theresa worked in; while most of the people he talked to just expressed shock and sorrow over her sudden death, he had also discovered that she apparently had been dating someone else in the company.

Nancy raised an eyebrow, her fork hovering over her slow-roasted chicken and chopped salad. "Well, _that's_ interesting," she said slowly.

Frank nodded. "Definitely."

"Did they have a falling-out or anything?"

Frank shrugged. "Not that anyone's talking about, but generally people whitewash that kind of thing after a death."

"True," Nancy admitted.

"Plus, the M.O. isn't partner murder, and it wouldn't explain the worry she had over what was going on at MorCom."

"Unless the two are related. Or there's a huge coincidence."

"Maybe."

They traded theories for the rest of the meal, and were waiting for the check when Frank reached across the table and touched Nancy's hand. Her stomach tightened, and she glanced up into his eyes.

"Nan, I know... well, I don't know," he corrected himself. "It feels like old times, doesn't it?"

Nancy pulled her hand back a little; she didn't take it entirely off the table, afraid he would see that as a total rejection, but she didn't want to be in such contact with him. "A little," she admitted. "What is it that you don't know?"

Frank smiled at her. "If you... well, I know you seem to like working at your current agency, but is there a possibility... with your license, you could run your own place; and I wouldn't mind working _for_ you." He nodded at the badge he had brought her. "I know we kind of talked about it last year..."

Nancy brushed her hair back, then gave Frank a small smile. "We did," she agreed. "And I talked to Ned about it..."

Something changed a little in Frank's eyes at the mention of her husband's name. Nancy couldn't say she was entirely surprised. "And I'm sure he wasn't in favor of it."

Nancy let her hands rest in her lap, out of his sight; she found that her fingers were twisting together, and it was hard for her to take a full breath. "He and I have a good life here," she said, her voice a little softer. "He has a good job..."

Frank let out a soft sound that was almost a snort. "And he's always been worried about _your_ job," he said, and Nancy thought guiltily of the conversations she had had with Frank after her breakup with Ned, how hurt she had been and how she had badmouthed him, taking every problem between them and blowing it up so it seemed like she had been a fool for _not_ leaving him. And Frank had eaten it up; he had loved comforting her, in any way he could. "Of course Ned wants to stay here. I just... God, the kinds of cases we could take, if we worked together..."

Nancy took a slow breath, trying to force her heart to stop pounding quite so hard. "I know you're interested... and if I change my mind, I'll be the first to let you and Joe know. Okay?"

Frank nodded, dropping his earnest gaze from her face. "Deal, Drew."

"Nickerson," she corrected him, that time.

"Nickerson," he said, his voice quieter. His disappointment was clear, though.

Nancy cleared her throat when the waitress approached with the bill. "Let me make a quick stop by the office," she told Frank, making her voice brighter. "I've got just the thing for this."

The suit she changed into was dark and imposing. She kept the whole "uniform" at her workplace when she needed it, down to the perfectly-ironed shirt and pristine stockings and pantyhose. Since she was going to be around Frank, though, she opted to leave the garter belt and stockings in the drawer; if she wore them around Frank and Ned saw them, he'd lose his shit.

Frank's rental car was parked in front of Trent's agency, and when she came downstairs in her suit, Frank looked her up and down and gave her a nod of approval. "Perfect," he told her. "This should be fun."

He started the navigation system and Nancy felt a rush of adrenaline. Thankfully, it swallowed the nervousness that lingered after their lunchtime conversation.

True to his word, Frank deferred to her and acted very conscientious once they arrived. Nancy asked specifically to see the department where Theresa worked, and added on a few others just so what they were doing wouldn't be quite so obvious. Then she spotted the laptop in a docking station in Theresa's workspace. She fought the urge to glance back significantly at Frank.

If Theresa's laptop was here—then either she had left it here herself, or someone had taken it from her house and brought it back here after killing her. Nancy swallowed her disappointment and continued her casual search.

About thirty minutes later, when Nancy was forcing herself to act interested as a vice president gave her a general tour, her cell phone chirped. _BF's name Greg Werner. In R &D._

_u or me?_ Nancy replied, even though thanks to their arrangement, she was pretty sure she knew what his answer would be. She was the boss, after all. That meant he was able to sympathize with the cubicle dwellers here, flirt with a secretary or two.

His response came a few minutes later. _I'm on it._

Nancy set herself a goal, then. When the vice president asked if she wanted a drink or a break, she told her that she wanted to see the research and development section. The older woman's brow creased slightly as she considered, but thanks to the clearance on the credentials Frank had managed to forge for her, she didn't foresee a problem.

And there wasn't one. Frank acted properly chagrined when he saw his boss and the vice-president, apparently caught mid-chatting up the junior assistant in that section. Nancy took the opportunity to ask a few of the researchers about their projects. When the vice-president received a call on her cell phone, Nancy made a beeline for a broodingly attractive middle-aged man in the corner; he had messy brown curls and a weak jawline, and Nancy recognized him from one of the photos Theresa had pinned to the corkboard near her desk. If he were an ex she had negative feelings toward, that photo would have been one of the first mementos to come down.

"I'm just visiting," she reassured Greg when he glanced back over his shoulder at her, closing the window he had opened, probably checking for a badge signifying that she was an inspector or quality control personnel. In the brief flash she was able to glimpse of his screen before the window collapsed, she only saw a directory of folders, but she couldn't tell what the contents were; the type was too small. "Just curious about what you were working on."

"Oh." Greg pushed his glasses up his nose, then blinked at her through them. Nancy noticed immediately that the lenses were clear. She had worn prescription-less glasses enough times to spot them on someone else. Either his correction power was so low as to be negligible, or the glasses were fake—and that gave Nancy a rush of excitement. Maybe she had found the man responsible for Theresa's death.

"Well, to be honest it's classified," he said hesitantly.

Nancy gave him a reassuring smile. "That's all right. If you're uncomfortable talking about it, I understand. By the way, those glasses are really nice; my husband's been looking for a new pair. Are they new? I don't think I've seen anything quite like them."

The frames were a variation of the popular generic black plastic, but Nancy wanted to see how he reacted to the question. He frowned and scrunched his nose a little, then pushed them back up self-consciously. "Oh, no, I haven't had them long. Thanks, though."

He had been wearing them in the snapshot Theresa had kept of him, though. "So I heard one of the other people who worked here, uh..." Nancy made a vague hand gesture, acting self-conscious about even talking about it.

Greg frowned. "Theresa? Ms. Hutton?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah." He sighed heavily. "We... we'd been dating. It's a shock, really."

"So she wasn't acting... upset, or anything?" When Greg raised his eyebrow, Nancy shook her head. "It's just... well, a cousin of mine..." She shrugged, frowning herself. "I guess I'm just saying that I understand. It can be so sudden and unexpected..."

"Yeah, it really was. She seemed stressed, but then, we all are." Greg shrugged, too.

The vice president came back in then, and Greg seemed to withdraw even more, his eyes widening. Nancy wasn't quite sure why, but she didn't like him, even though she sensed that his other answers were pretty genuine. She would have to compare notes with Frank, though, and ask what he had heard.

Their opportunity to do that came soon after the business side of the plant had closed for the day. The vice president stayed a few minutes after to discuss particulars with Nancy; she said that she had to talk to her own people about project specifications and funding, but she would be in the area for the week and would contact her again soon. Thanks to Frank's connections, she knew he could fake an acceptable project—but the more lies they told, the more likely they were to be caught in one. Frank had cover identities and higher-ups at his disposal; Nancy didn't. When her phone buzzed as she and the vice president lingered in the lobby area, Nancy was relieved to see it was a message from her husband, not from Frank.

_Heading to store, will start dinner when I get home unless I hear from u. Love you._

_Sounds good. Love u,_ she replied, then gave the vice president another smile.

She was on her way back through security when her phone buzzed again. _Scope out security 4 me. Stay after & check GW's comp?_

_For what?_ Nancy wanted to reply, but she decided against it. She waited a few minutes, then raised her hands in exasperation and headed back inside the building. In the lobby she could see the security monitors; she had seen the black glass domes covering the cameras inside the building, but the security officer she approached seemed bored and complacent once he checked her security badge and identification and judged her as nonthreatening. She told him that she had left a folder with classified documents in one of the divisions, and she needed to retrieve it before she left.

"I'll escort you," the officer said, reaching for a walkie-talkie. Nancy was watching the monitors in her peripheral vision; she could see them reflected in the plate-glass window behind him. While they were sweeping, the sweep wasn't constant, and most of them were watching the doors to departments, not the interiors of the departments themselves.

"No, no. It will only be a minute. I don't want to make any trouble," Nancy said, sensing that the security officer was far more interested in the bag of chips he had just opened than in walking around the building again.

He frowned. "Well—"

"Really. Thank you so much." She gave him a smile and headed for the main door, and he hesitated a moment before buzzing her back in.

Finding a suitable disguise wasn't all that difficult. Nancy tied her red-gold hair back and found a well-washed white lab coat hanging from a hook near the front; the front pocket was stained a faint blue from the leaking pens the former owner had kept there. It was also clearly meant for someone with at least thirty pounds on her, but the fit wasn't terrible.

_Back in. U get his, I'll get hers._

Nancy kept her own pair of plain-glass-lensed glasses in the briefcase she carried for her cover; in an alcove she whipped those out and put them on, then wiped off her assertive berry lipstick and put on a layer of plain lip balm in its place. She couldn't do anything about her definitely non-regulation stilettos, but it would just have to do.

The door of Theresa's department had been open earlier; now, after hours, the company was operating with a skeleton crew. A few executive offices were still lit up, and in Theresa's department Nancy could see that one monitor was still lit up, but no one seemed to be at the computer. Nancy lingered there until the screen saver came on, wondering if Frank was in the same situation she was.

A medium-build African-American man strode briskly toward the door, and Nancy followed him with as little urgency as she could feign. He glanced over his shoulder at her when she began to follow him in, then did a double-take.

"Sorry. Left something here earlier," she explained, giving him a vague smile. He gave her an uncertain nod, heading back to his own desk and equipment.

Before Nancy touched the laptop, which was closed, she took a deep breath and went into her briefcase for her travel fingerprinting kit. The powder was messy, but she planned to wipe it off before she left for the night. Directing a quick glance back over her shoulder to make sure the other researcher couldn't see what she was doing, Nancy dusted the most likely locations for prints, if the culprit had picked up the computer and brought it back with him or her. She found many prints, most of them smudged, but a few were fairly clean.

When she opened the computer and pressed the power button, it didn't start. The charger was still coiled up a few feet away; Nancy dusted the large box at the end of the cord for prints, and found a few that weren't awful. Then she plugged it in and tried to start it again.

The computer booted up to a welcome screen asking Nancy to select a language so she could proceed with setup and installation of the operating system. So the hard drive had been initialized. Nancy's heart sank. One possibility was out.

Her phone had gone off a few minutes earlier, but she had been in the middle of dusting for prints and had ignored it. She pulled it out of her pocket, idly tapping the space bar on Theresa's desktop unit to wake it up from sleep.

_Enter password for user thutton:_

Nancy scowled at it, then checked her phone.

_GW's comp wiped. ?_

Nancy's eyes widened. _T's laptop, too. Desktop ok. Need pass tho._

As she waited for Frank's response, Nancy checked the likely places: the bottom of the mouse pad, the first few drawers in her desk. Theresa had a snowglobe on her desk depicting a plastic beach scene; glitter rained down when Nancy shook it. No password was taped to the base of the snowglobe, though. A fluorescent green palm tree and a pair of hot pink sunglasses settled to the bottom of the globe and were dusted in a layer of fine glitter.

She didn't know enough about the network at MorCom to know what kind of password they required, but considering the level of secrecy required for their projects, she doubted it would be as simple as a pet's name or a birthdate. She didn't want to go through the desk drawers too loudly, just in case she alerted Theresa's coworker and alarmed him enough to call security.

Remembering another case when she had been investigating a mysterious death, Nancy quietly lowered herself to her knees and felt around underneath the shallow central drawer of the desk, directly under the keyboard shelf. She was happy she didn't find any cobwebs, but she didn't find anything else, either. Her cell phone was buzzing in her pocket again when she bumped her knee against something. A space heater was tucked under Theresa's desk for the colder winter months.

It was under the right-hand edge of the desk, under the bottom of the lowest drawer, that her fingertips encountered a variation in the smooth surface of the metal drawer. It was rough masking tape, over something smooth and plastic. Gently Nancy worked her nail under the edge of the masking tape and pulled it away.

A small USB flash drive clattered to the linoleum.

Mouthing a curse, Nancy tentatively felt through the dust bunnies swept under the desk until she found the flash drive, clutching it triumphantly. Her phone buzzed again, reminding her that she hadn't checked it yet.

_Want me to take out HD jic?_ Frank had texted her, followed by _nm, thorough wipe._

_Meet me at car,_ Nancy texted him back. She knew that given enough time, Frank could break through the password wall and get into Theresa's hard drive, but she was hungry and their cover meant they could come back the next day. The thumb drive, she had a feeling, would be a great clue.

Nancy had just risen to her stilettos and was dusting off the hem of her skirt when the other researcher cleared his throat and stood. Nancy made sure the thumb drive was concealed in her fist as she bent to pick up her briefcase, then darted over to another unoccupied desk. When he came around the corner, she was just snapping the briefcase shut; she gave him a small smile.

"Found it!"

He nodded perfunctorily to her, but he seemed to be absorbed by whatever problem he was mentally working through. He was tossing a handful of change in his cupped palm, and Nancy followed him out, then headed through the maze of the company back toward the front entrance.

Frank was incredibly eager to analyze the contents of the thumb drive Nancy had found. His eyes lit up when she passed it over to him, just as she had known they would. "Great work, Nan! See, we really do make a great team."

Nancy gave him a small smile, keeping her gaze on the road ahead of them. "We'll see. Considering how paranoid Theresa was, though, I can't shake the feeling it won't be this easy."

"Or we'll have the case solved tonight." Frank's voice was a little subdued at that part, and Nancy noticed that her stomach sank too. It wasn't that she wanted to spend more time with Frank. She just loved the adrenaline rush of working a case, and always had.

"Someone wiped her computer, though?" Frank's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yeah," Nancy replied, pulling the elastic out of her hair before she negotiated a turn onto the highway. "Only her laptop, though."

"And they most likely brought it back here?"

Nancy nodded. "The battery was drained and it wasn't plugged in."

"So maybe whoever did it is on the security cameras."

"Maybe." Nancy shrugged. "When I talked to Werner he seemed genuinely upset she was dead, but maybe he's a good actor. The fact that his computer was wiped, though..."

Frank made an alarmed noise. "If she was going to tell anyone about her suspicions—"

"It would probably be her boyfriend," Nancy completed, her eyes widening. "And if he was doing some research too, into the same thing that Theresa was looking into..."

"Shit," Frank muttered. "I _knew_ I should have looked up his home address."

"Is it really going to take you that long to find it?"

"No," Frank admitted. "Not once I'm at my own computer."

"So let's go back to my place, change into something more suitable than _this_ ," she said, gesturing at her stilettos and his business suit, "and you can look up Werner's address while we eat."

"Fast food?"

Nancy shook her head. "Ned's cooking."

"Oh." Frank paused for a second. "I guess his cooking has gotten better, then?"

Nancy shot a dirty look at him. "Yes," she drawled. "It has."

"Hey," Frank said, holding his hands up defensively. "Just sayin'. I remember a few cookouts—"

"Yeah, don't bring those up. If you'd like to go to sleep concussion-free tonight, anyway."

Frank shot a teasing grin at her. "Lucky you haven't gotten rusty on those lockpick skills, Drew—I don't want to wake up to some security guard or cop's ugly mug, either."

Nancy wrinkled her nose at him. "Speak for yourself, Hardy. It's like taking candy from a baby."

"Just what I wanted to hear."

It was easier to put herself on autopilot. It was easier to respond to him just the way she would have, once.

When she climbed out of her Mustang and locked it, though, Nancy's fingers were trembling a little. Her feet ached, and she wanted to go upstairs and change—but Ned had decided to grill out, and he was out on the back patio. She could hear the radio out there with him, tuned to a sports broadcast.

Frank immediately went for his laptop, to plug in the USB drive. Nancy was intensely curious about what he would find on it, but she needed her husband more.

Ned wore a plain red apron, and he already had a beer open on the small patio table, a spatula in his hand. He had just lowered the grill cover when she opened the back door, and he immediately gave her a grin.

"Hey, baby."

The trembling she had felt in her fingers was more pronounced now, and she came up to him and hugged him from behind, her cheek pressed to the back of his bleach-spattered t-shirt. "Ned," she murmured, her arms under the apron. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the layer of thin fabric, and she closed her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Ned's voice was soft. Just between them.

"Nothing, now."

Ned put the spatula down and turned so he could wrap his arm around her. He bent down and kissed her temple. "You sound upset," he said quietly.

"I'm okay. I just missed you."

Ned's frown didn't fade, but he gave her a small nod. "I missed you too, babe. And seeing you in that suit..." He gave her a brief hum of approval.

She smiled at him. "You like it, huh?"

"Very much."

"Mmm. Does it remind you of your extremely naughty secretary?"

"Yeah. And if we didn't have a houseguest and a dinner that needs to be watched so it doesn't burn..." Ned leaned down and nipped at her earlobe, then the soft flesh beneath it. Nancy shuddered when he caught a handful of her hair, clenched his fist around it and tugged gently. "Let's just say I'd make sure you were _punished_ for whatever you did to those memos today."

Nancy forced herself to open her eyes, to gaze into his. "Wrote love poems on them in my own blood," she murmured. "Then set fire to them."

As soon as Frank opened the back door, Ned immediately released his wife's hair, and she relaxed, but they didn't move away from each other. "Hey Ned," Frank said, giving him a curt nod. "Nan, the drive is encoded."

"Of course it is," she sighed.

"Dinner's almost ready. Want to get changed while I set the table?"

Frank headed back inside, while Nancy watched him go, then leaned up to kiss her husband's cheek. He made a soft noise and turned to kiss her full on the mouth.

"Love you."

"Love you too," she murmured, giving him one last kiss before she went inside.

Mindful of what they would likely be doing later, Nancy changed into a pair of comfortable black stretchy pants that had been washed to a soft dark gray and a tank top. The night was warm, and when their neighbor Rebecca brought out a garbage bag to toss into the outside container and waved to them, they introduced her to Frank. She asked how their anniversary trip had been, and they promised to have her over for dinner soon and tell her all about it. Afterward, they exchanged a glance, smiling. Most of their anniversary trip had been sex.

Frank complimented his hamburger in what Nancy was amused to notice was an almost perfunctory way, before saying that his computer was still working on breaking the encryption on the portable drive. Rebecca had gone back inside but had left her windows open so the breeze would come in, and Frank kept his voice down as he and Nancy told Ned about what they had done that day.

"So Theresa's desktop computer at work seemed to be okay, but her laptop had been wiped—and her boyfriend's desktop computer was wiped at some point today, too." Ned summed up what they had told him, lifting his beer to his lips again.

Frank nodded. "And what if he knew about whatever Theresa was investigating?"

"Then maybe he found out his girlfriend had died and wiped his hard drive to keep anyone from finding out what they had been looking into," Ned pointed out. "Or he downloaded a virus and the IT staff was working on fixing it."

"Wouldn't they have taken his desktop back to their department, then?"

Ned shrugged, wiping his mouth. "Depends on who does it. What I'm trying to say here is that if both Theresa's computers had been wiped, that definitely would seem fishy. Does she have network storage?"

Nancy shrugged. "I couldn't get past the password screen to check that out."

"And if I grabbed her hard drive..." Frank suggested.

"Wouldn't matter, if she was keeping everything on a network drive," Ned pointed out, grabbing another handful of potato chips. "You'd have to be there, in the building, and on the network to get in."

"But if she was nervous, would she have kept _anything_ sensitive on a network drive?" Nancy asked.

"Where'd you find the thumb drive?" Ned asked.

Nancy explained. "She was paranoid enough to not want to transfer the information," she said. "To want to pass off physical copies to the Network agent."

"Then why not include the thumb drive in the pass?" Ned asked.

Frank was looking back and forth between the two of them, his brow furrowing. "Maybe she didn't have whatever's on the drive at the time of the pass," he pointed out. "We don't know."

"So our best lead is most likely the thumb drive."

They debated for a while longer. Ned was of the opinion that the boyfriend's initialized computer might be a coincidence, and wasn't necessarily a sign that the same person or people who had killed Theresa were after her boyfriend. Still, he did admit that it would have to be awfully coincidental.

Nancy swirled the last of her water around in the bottle. "Someone in that office was on her computer," she pointed out. "I really think that's the most likely explanation. They wiped her laptop because they were pretty sure that something incriminating was on it. If that laptop was at her house and they brought it back, I have fingerprints, as long as they weren't wearing gloves. And if they snuck in to initialize it, they would probably be caught on the security tapes."

Frank leaned back in his wrought-iron chair. "So what are you suggesting? I'm not sure how long decrypting the drive is going to take, and I really do feel like we should try to make some more progress in the meantime."

Ned nodded, and Nancy knew why. The quicker they solved the case, the quicker Frank would be back in New York. "So, Nan, you think the security tapes are a good lead."

Nancy nodded slowly. "But I'm not sure how hard they would be to access."

"And we don't know how often they're overwritten," Frank pointed out.

"They might never be," Ned said. "I doubt you'll find a stack of hand-labeled VHS tapes in the building, but they might be backed up in there..."

"You think they'd waste server space with it?" Frank asked, tilting his head.

Ned shrugged. "Guess it depends on how sensitive the information they're working with is," he pointed out.

" _And_ ," Nancy said, trying to head off a fight, "I didn't have a good feeling about the boyfriend. Even if he's not in danger, he might be connected."

After a little more debate, Frank went inside to check on the progress on decrypting the thumb drive, but the program still needed more time to unlock the contents. Using the laptop for anything else meant diverting some of its processor to another task, which would slow decryption. In the meantime, Nancy used her phone to look up Greg Werner's LKA. When she glanced up at her husband, she noticed he was clearing the table. She put her phone to sleep and helped him gather their paper plates and plastic cups.

"Did you say Werner saw you earlier?"

Nancy nodded. "Both of us were in that room."

"So if he sees either of you, you'd be blowing your cover."

"Yeah."

Ned was quiet for a minute. "Well, why don't I go out with you? I'll come up with some excuse and check him out."

He headed inside to put the ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and remainder of the chips away, and Nancy followed him inside. Frank was sitting on the couch muttering at his laptop and facing away from them; Nancy dumped the paper plates and cups in the trash, then embraced her husband from behind again.

"It's sweet of you to offer," she told him. "But you don't have to."

Ned turned around and wrapped his arms around her. She heard him begin to say something, but he stopped himself. "No, I want to," he told her. "But we should take two cars, just in case things get complicated."

Frank asked to borrow a laptop from Trent's agency to hack into the network at MorCom, so they took both cars there first. Nancy went up and checked out the best one currently available, and they arranged to meet at MorCom after Nancy and Ned went by Werner's place to check him out.

In the car, once they were alone, Ned touched Nancy's knee. "So you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did he do something?"

Ned's voice was even enough, but Nancy cast a glance over at him anyway. "Not—not like that. It's all right, baby."

Ned made a soft noise. "All right. Let's talk about it when we're back at home, if that's what you want."

She cast another glance at him. "I mean it. He didn't—make a pass at me or anything. It's not like that."

Ned nodded. Then his fingertips brushed the neckline of her tank top; he drew the heart pendant up high enough to see it, then released the chain. "I trust you," he murmured.

At the reminder, though, Nancy had to force herself to take a long, slow breath. Her heart was beating too hard, and she hated that.

\--

Figuring out his cover didn't take Ned too long. Between the car's seats he found a few partially crumpled sheets of paper bearing directions to somewhere the GPS hadn't been able to easily take them. He folded them long-ways and held them in his hand as he approached the apartment building. When he glanced back, Nancy was giving him a hopeful smile.

She had determined that Werner's apartment was on the second floor, and all the residences opened onto landings, so he didn't have to find a way through a main door with security. Ned smelled dinner cooking, and heard dogs barking from behind a few doors. He made his way up to the second floor and waited a few minutes, looking around, checking his watch. A pair of women came down the stairs in running clothes and cast a brief curious glance at him, and he tossed them a cheerful wave.

Then he took a deep breath and knocked on Werner's door. He had to wait a moment for a response.

"Who is it?"

"Hey..." Ned waved the still-folded papers in front of the peephole. "Supposed to meet the manager here? Are you the manager?"

After another few seconds, the door opened. Werner wasn't wearing glasses now, so Nancy's supposition had probably been correct, and his curly brown hair was brushed back. "Nope. Sorry."

"Oh. Maybe I have the address wrong..." Ned made a show of peering at the numbers hanging from Werner's door. "No, I think this is the one. Manager said he could show me the unit tonight?"

Werner shook his head. "Sorry. It'll be a few days before I'm out."

"You sure? It's just that my lease ran out a few days ago..."

"Two days at the earliest," Werner said, huffing impatiently. "Sorry."

Before Werner started to shut the door, Ned was able to spot suitcases in the hallway behind him, along with a few stacked boxes. "Hey... can I ask? Is this a bad place to live or something? That why you're moving?"

Werner shook his head. "Work reassignment," he said.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks, man."

Werner shrugged and shut the door.

Nancy was almost quivering with anticipation when Ned slid back into the passenger seat. "So? Is he home?"

Ned nodded. "Uh... getting ready to skip town, by the looks of it."

Nancy's eyes widened. "As in he's afraid that the same people who killed his girlfriend are after him?"

Ned shook his head. "I don't think so," he told her. "He told me he had a work reassignment."

Nancy chewed her bottom lip for a moment before putting the car in drive and heading out to MorCom to meet up with Frank. "Hmm," she murmured. "So... what does your gut tell you?"

"I'd rather hear what yours tells you."

Nancy hummed softly again. "The person who killed Theresa was very familiar with her, her routine, her habits, her life. A boyfriend would fit that profile. That person knew enough to hire me to impersonate her, to intercept _her_ —which means theoretically it was a person she didn't recognize, presumably male. The person who intercepted the documents she wanted to pass didn't want something exposed, and whatever that was or is, MorCom is involved.

"The fact that she died soon after, that the documents are missing—I can't imagine that it could truly be a coincidence."

"I'd agree. Not so soon after."

"Plus someone at her workplace indicated that she was on vacation, when she clearly wasn't." Nancy growled quietly under her breath. "If we knew who that was... but by that point it could have been hearsay."

"No packed suitcases in her car's trunk. Nothing seemed to be missing from her house." Ned ticked off the points on his fingers.

"Other than the laptop."

Nancy nodded, drumming her palm lightly against the steering wheel as she braked for a red light. "Well... until we decrypt the flash drive or log onto her desktop at work or find the original packet—which has probably been destroyed by now—"

"And I'd think that whatever the incriminating files were, they were on her laptop and gone now," Ned added.

"Yeah. We might find some evidence on the desktop, but that flash drive is our best bet."

Ned paused. "Okay. So how would Werner have behaved if he had been helping Theresa, or knew anything about what she was doing?"

"Suspicious and upset," Nancy predicted. "Paranoid about his safety. And if he had known about that flash drive, he had plenty of time to recover it once she was missing. And why did her _brother_ report Theresa missing, instead of her boyfriend?"

"And if he was the one who killed her, who was framing her for the suspicious activity?"

"Well, he would have stuck around after he killed her so it didn't look quite so incriminating," Nancy shot back, her mind going a million miles a minute; Ned could tell by the look in her eyes, and his heart was beating faster, in response to her own exhilaration. He had always loved that about helping her. "Wouldn't have been very broken up about her death, either, if he was the one who killed her."

"But what motivation would he have had to frame her for suspicious activity?"

"If he was the one behind it," Nancy replied immediately. "If he needed to throw someone off the scent."

"So he never loved her?"

Nancy shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Again, he didn't seem all that broken up about her death, and I had the sense that he was lying about something."

"Which would explain why his computer was wiped."

"He left work today knowing that he wasn't coming back."

By then they were approaching the MorCom parking lot. After some discussion, Frank and Nancy had agreed to meet in a wooded area on the opposite side of the building, but close to its walls, in the hopes he could pick up the wireless network signal from inside the building. If he couldn't, breaking in to search the security footage would most likely be a two-person job.

Nancy was picking at a hangnail as she parked near Frank's rental car and stared into the distance. "If I had his fingerprints... well, depending, that might not be entirely conclusive..." She groaned. "Well, let's see if Frank's had any luck."

Frank's hair was mussed, and Ned saw several already-empty soda cans in the passenger floorboard of the rental car. "I just got in," he greeted them when Nancy opened the passenger door. "It took a while to get through. Now I just have to figure out where the security footage is stored... and I'm sure that's going to take longer."

"Anything we can do to help?" Nancy asked.

Frank shrugged. "Mind hitting up a convenience store? Unless you have another laptop handy; then we could split things up, divide and conquer."

Nancy shook her head. "If you're in the network, though... have you found the network drives?"

"Well, yeah."

"One with 'thutton' as the name?"

Frank clicked through a few screens. "Hmm. Yeah... and there actually are files on it."

Even though Ned hated to do it, he asked if it would make sense for them to break into MorCom, since transferring the files would be quicker over a wired network. Frank and Nancy had studied the building's security and had decided that would only be a last-ditch attempt. The company employed too many security officers and the encryption level was too high to make it a quick job, which meant they were very likely to be caught in the attempt if they broke in.

Nancy went to a convenience store and brought more soda and snacks back for Frank, then told him to call if he found anything. As they set off for home, leaving him behind, she reached up and took the elastic out of her hair and shook it out.

"So," Ned said quietly. The beer he had drank with dinner had given him a mild buzz, but that had faded. "You want to talk about it?"

Nancy glanced over at him, and he could see her considering whether she should pretend innocence. He was glad she didn't. "When we're back at home," she murmured. "Like you said."

That didn't help Ned's anxiety, but he let her put it off. Even once they were back at home, she pulled out her computer and did a few searches on Greg Werner to see if she could get a lead on him. In the meantime, Ned tidied up the kitchen, made sure the house was secure, then brushed his teeth and washed his face. Nancy was gazing intently at her computer screen when Ned came to bed, and when she glanced up at him, she made a soft sound. "Sorry. I'll put it away."

When she returned, face freshly washed and teeth brushed, she slipped off her soft, stretchy pants and joined him in bed. "Find him?" Ned asked, curious despite himself.

"Ahh... a few leads. We'll see." She nestled against his chest, and Ned wrapped his arm around her. "I think I'll call Chief McGinnis in the morning, see if he can help." Now that she was a private investigator, she had asked him for a few favors, but only a few. She didn't want him to start dreading her calls or asking himself if putting himself out by helping her was worth it.

"Sounds good," Ned said quietly, then reached up and cupped her cheek. "Babe, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"What's the hard way?"

"I tie you to the bed and torture you until you talk to me."

"Torture?"

"In the most pleasurable sense imaginable." Ned's voice was low, and he felt Nancy shudder in response. "Granted, it would take a long time; I'd make sure of it."

"Downstairs? Clamps?" Nancy had her face pressed against his bare chest; her voice was muffled.

"Up here. Clamps, sure. Vibrator against your clit until you're wet enough to take the biggest dildo we have..." He kissed the crown of her head.

"Mmm. And I'll be screaming," she murmured.

"I'd think so."

"Maybe we should save it for the weekend," she murmured. "I have to get up early tomorrow, and I can just imagine the look on Frank's face if he knocked on the door to tell us goodnight and he saw me sprawled naked and tied to our bed with a big black cock, all wet from being inside me, between my legs..."

"Not to mention the clamps," Ned murmured, gently tweaking her hardened nipple through her tank top.

Nancy released a frustrated groan, then reached for the hem of her tank top. "All right, Nickerson. I won't be able to calm down if you don't fuck me, _now_."

Ned began to tug her panties down. "With the clamps, baby?"

"If you want to," she murmured, after a slight hesitation.

"I do like the way you scream when we use them," Ned admitted. "And I seem to remember someone promised me screaming..."

Nancy gave him a sardonic smile as she slipped her fingertips under the elastic band of his boxers and began to ease them down, then licked the head of his erect cock. "Poor Rebecca," she murmured, then took him into her mouth, running her tongue down the underside of his cock until the head was at the back of her throat, then pulling back again. "Since our real audience isn't even here to hear it..." She bent over him again.

"Well, she _did_ want to hear about our trip," Ned chuckled. Then he grabbed a fistful of her hair. "You keep doing that and I'm gonna beg you to deep-throat me before we do anything else."

Nancy pulled back. "Mmm. You did say torture. Maybe you should see if I'm wet enough for that big, long, thick black dildo," she cooed.

Ned looked at her sparkling blue eyes. The longer she put off talking to him, the worse he felt. "All right," he murmured. "The hard way, then."

"Ned," she breathed, but he took a handful of her hair and tugged gently, and she met his gaze. "Yes."

He cuffed her to the headboard and tied her legs open, then brought the chained clamps over to the bedside table. He left the black dildo, the toy they hadn't worked up the nerve to try yet, in the drawer; Ned was a little jealous of it, to be honest, but he was pretty sure Nancy knew that. If he fucked her with the dildo, he would only be able to do it so long, before he would have to pull it out of her and fuck her himself. That, or work every inch of it into her hot slick cunt while he fucked her pert little ass himself...

Bent over their kitchen table. God. He'd love to see Frank's face if he walked in on that.

Nancy's eyes were wide as she looked up at him, though, anticipating whatever he was going to do. Instead of positioning the clamps around her tight nipples and exposing her clit to clamp it as well, Ned sat down beside her naked, then cupped her cheek.

"Tell me what happened today," Ned said, running the backs of his fingers down her jaw, then cupping her breast. "Because the longer you go without telling me, the more I want to punch him in the mouth. If that's what you want, babe, you're doing a good job."

He cupped her other breast, gently fondling both her nipples as she took a deep breath. "Kiss me," she whispered. "Please... I need you."

He knelt between her spread thighs and gave her a gentle kiss, his body arched over hers. He touched her fingertips with his own, and she made a soft noise as he reached for the key to the cuffs and unfastened them, then pressed his palms to hers, laced his fingers between hers and pinned her hands to the bed, her legs spread wide under him and his hips between her open thighs. He nuzzled against her cheek and felt her hips tilt up gently against his as his lips found her earlobe.

"I love you," he murmured, and she trembled faintly. "Talk to me. Because what I'm imagining..."

Nancy drew another long breath. "We were at lunch today..." She released one of his hands, then cupped his cheek, shivering as he nuzzled against her neck. "And he... he said it was like old times... he asked me again if I'd consider... opening the agency..."

"With him and Joe," Ned murmured, keeping his voice as neutral as he could.

"Yeah," she whispered. She moaned softly when he moved his hips against hers, his lips brushing her cheekbone, but he held that way, without moving inside her, waiting to see what she would say. She ran her fingers through his hair and he felt her eyelashes brush his cheek. "I told him that I'd be the first to let him know if I changed my mind, but you and I both have good jobs here, we have a good life together..."

He moved back and brushed his lips lightly against hers when she trailed off again. The lamp at her bedside was still switched on, and the blue-stained light turned her eyes even brighter. Her lips were parted.

She blinked once, then looked into his eyes again. "He said that you'd always been... that you didn't want me to have this job and of course you wouldn't want me to work with them. Of course you wouldn't support that decision."

Ned just looked into her eyes, not saying anything, letting her pour it all out.

She took a breath. "Baby, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I..."

"Why?" He brought his free hand to her cheek and gently stroked it.

"He... when we were apart..."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No... Nothing like... well, no. He didn't." She glanced down, toward the scarred hole in her chest, and Ned nodded once. "But I was mad at you... I was hurt, and... I know he didn't like you. I'm sure I only made it worse."

Ned gave her a soft smile. "So you talked some shit about me."

"Yeah." She sighed the word. "It was a long time ago."

"It _was_ a long time ago," he agreed. "And I'm sure there's any number of coeds at Emerson who got an earful about you, too. It's all right. We were both hurting."

Nancy nodded, and he felt her relax a little under him as he kissed her again. "I'm still sorry for it," she whispered.

He looked into her eyes again. "Have you changed your mind?" he asked her softly. "You can tell me, Nan."

She looked away from him again for a second, her fingers tightening against his. "I haven't," she murmured. "I haven't changed my mind, not from what I told you before. I still feel like it would be a mistake..." Then she sighed. "But when I'm around him, it's easy to... to forget that. He'd let me be in charge..."

"Really?" Ned was still trying to keep his voice neutral, but it was difficult. "Because I've seen him around you, and he likes to do what he wants. I'm sure he jumped at the chance to work with you again; he and his brother probably like the idea of making their own rules, doing what they want—and your license would be the one at stake. They'd stick you in the office doing all the admin work—or worse, have no one doing it." Ned almost went on, but he broke off with a growl.

Nancy stroked his cheek. "Okay, now _you_ get it off your chest," she told him.

"Are you..." Ned sat up, then lifted her into his arms; with the way he had tied her, as long as she kept her legs open, she would be comfortable. He studied her, the face he had loved for so long. "Baby... what I feel doesn't matter, not really. If you haven't changed your mind, then that's it."

"But I want to hear it," she said softly. "Or do I need to tie _you_ to the bed."

He let his palms rest at the small of her back as she cupped his face. "I... I believe you," he told her. "He would take you and suck you dry, Nancy. He would use you... and he would love you in his way... and you loved him too..."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "I did," she murmured. "A little, and past tense. Now... we have a case and we're working together and it's exciting, and I can see what it does to you, and I can feel what it does to me... but I'll be honest, if it were just you and me? If it was like it used to be, if you were off for the summer, out of school, and you could be the one helping me look for clues and figure this out? I'd love that. I love you, I love spending time with you... and I trust you, Ned. Maybe Frank still has feelings for me, but I know that you'd lay your life down to save mine. You've done it so many times.

"I owe you my life, and I love the life we have together. I love my job, boring background checks and the occasional scary situation and all. And I want to be _with you_ , Ned. I don't want to be spending all my time away from you, when we've already spent enough time apart. I want to be here to support you while you're going back to school, and I... I want to have babies with you, in a few years, when we're ready. So, no. I'm not going to let him use me, or pull me away from you.

"I was given a second chance. I have no intention of wasting it."

Ned rested his forehead against hers. "I just... I don't ever want you to regret choosing to be here instead of with him," he murmured. "I know your life would be a lot more exciting with him..."

"And a lot shorter," she said softly, and tilted her head to press a kiss against his lips. "Besides, I have all the excitement I want here with you. Not to mention that extremely hot anniversary trip we just had... I'd much rather see the world with you, Ned Nickerson. And sleep beside you every night..."

"Beside me?" Ned said with a grin, lowering her to the bed again. "You sure you only want to be _beside_ me?" Her giggle turned to a loud moan as he positioned himself, then thrust deep inside her.

When her cell phone began to ring from the bedside table, he didn't know how much time had passed. The bedsprings were squeaking, the headboard thumping against the wall, and Ned's back was stinging from the drag of her fingernails against it. They were both slick from their exertions and she was shuddering, sobbing in pleasure as he stroked inside her. A part of Ned had been hoping that Frank would come into the house while they were fucking, especially once Nancy began to scream in pleasure.

Ned growled against her skin, nuzzling against her neck as the phone kept ringing. "Shut _up_ ," he mumbled at it, rewarding her with a rougher thrust when she bit him. "Mmm, that's right, baby," he groaned.

Her phone went silent for a moment, then began to ring again. "Shit," she panted. "Probably—him—oh _fuck_ —"

Ned rose over her, pushing his hips flush against hers and releasing a hoarse cry as he spent himself inside her. Nancy was flushed, her eyes shining, and Ned panted as he brought his hand to her waist to rub his thumb against her clit. Nancy's fingernails dug into his skin as she bucked in response.

He twisted, leaning to the side to scoop up the still-ringing phone, and Nancy cried out loudly in answer, her hips undulating. It took Ned a few tries to answer the call. "I'm fucking my wife, Hardy," he panted into the phone, as she sobbed underneath him. "You'd better be bleeding."

Nancy's face was washed with a deeper blush as she realized Ned had answered the phone, and he knew she was stifling herself, but she still couldn't resist moaning. "I, uh," Frank stammered, and Ned couldn't resist the urge to grin. "I was about to head back... to your place..."

"Sure," Ned told him, and when he stroked Nancy's clit a little harder, she squealed in arousal. Her cunt was incredibly slick around him. "We'll try to wrap things up..."

He leaned down and caught Nancy's nipple in his mouth, and she arched under him—then grabbed the phone. She was panting as she said, "Frank? Why'd you call?"

Ned sucked her other nipple into his mouth and bit it gently, and she slapped his shoulder blade without hurting him. He took that as a sign of encouragement and ran the tip of his thumb over her clit; she sucked in a sharp breath, her hips rocking back and forth. She gave a grunt of understanding and ended the call, then tossed her phone back onto the bedside table.

"Someone is a bad, _bad_ boy," she told him, her voice breathless.

"Only when someone else needs to be punished," he growled against her neck.

He wasn't sure how many times she had finally come when he let her start to come down, catching his own breath before he untied her. Nancy moaned, stretching. When he brought a wet washcloth back from the bathroom she was still sprawled naked on their bed, her hair mussed and her lashes low, and she looked incredibly beautiful to him.

"Sorry," he said.

"Mmm. It's all right," she murmured, and gave him a smile as he ran the cloth over her thighs. "Thanks, baby."

When he returned to their room, she had picked up her clothes and pulled the sheet over her. Ned put his boxers back on and joined her, and she cuddled against him.

"So why did he decide to come back so soon?"

"Mmm. Network's too slow. 'S all right. In the morn'n' I'll call the chief." Nancy's voice was soft and slurred, and she kissed his chest. "Love you."

"Love you," Ned murmured, wrapping his arm around her and closing his eyes.

In the morning, the waiting game began. Nancy called Chief McGinnis, and while the medical examiner's report on Theresa hadn't come back with any conclusions yet, he listened to her explanation for why she felt that the death probably hadn't been an accident. She told him that she had been to MorCom and seen the security cameras inside the building, and told him that Theresa's boyfriend might be involved, but she wasn't sure. She called the debit card issuing company again to ask for updates, and was told a manager would call her back in a few hours. 

Then it was time to wait.

Nancy had a clean power suit at the ready, but she was waiting on Frank's call to let her know if she should come back out to MorCom. During their breakfast strategy session, where Frank had seemed more self-conscious than usual, they had decided that he would try to find a way to get into the network without being detected while she tracked down other leads. McGinnis had indicated that he would check on the security footage, but that didn't necessarily mean he would be inclined to share it with them, or that a search warrant would come through anytime soon. Nancy doubted MorCom would just hand it over without the warrant. Frank had downloaded as many files as he could off Theresa's network drive, but on a cursory first glance, nothing appeared out of the ordinary that Frank could tell.

Her next plan was to fully check out Greg Werner. She typed his name into the background search database and waited for the system to process the request, glancing over at Frank's laptop. He was still using the one he had borrowed from Trent's agency to hack into the MorCom network; Nancy had taken his personal laptop to work so she could monitor the progress on decoding the flash drive. Frank had left the process running all night, but Theresa had been thorough. The encryption still hadn't been cracked.

That in itself made Nancy pretty sure that they wouldn't find what they were looking for on the less-secure network drive, but stranger things had happened. And that thought led to another; Nancy jotted a note to herself just in case.

Greg Werner. The search found his utility bills, his lease, but nothing older than about six months. She pulled up the sole head shot the search had returned; his hair was messy, his glasses on.

But Ned had told her he hadn't been wearing glasses the night before.

Nancy bit her lip gently, then pulled up a facial recognition program she had used a few times. The program would ignore the glasses if she told it to...

The program was running as Nancy's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Lunch?" Frank's voice sounded hopeful.

"Uh... sure," Nancy said, glancing over at the laptop again. "Tell me the encryption software is gonna get lucky soon. It's torture, watching it."

Frank chuckled. "Sure hope so. Any leads?"

"Not yet. You?"

"Werner didn't make it in to work today."

Nancy made a soft noise. "Color me unsurprised."

After they agreed on where to meet for lunch, Nancy hung up and noticed that the search had stopped running. The results weren't for Greg Werner, but Joseph Gregory Warner, with an "a" instead.

Nancy propped her chin on her hand, reading the screen intently. MorCom wasn't the only company in the field. Joe Warner worked for Enstar, a company in direct competition with MorCom. Each had earned a share of the lucrative government contracts, MorCom more so in recent years.

Nancy had run into corporate spies, saboteurs, and hackers while she had been working as a private investigator for Trent's firm and before that. Joe Warner had a significant history; he looked the same and was the right age, but he had years of credit history that Greg Werner didn't. He had kept up to date on his credit cards and various other payments, too—but of course he had. Moving to Chicago, near MorCom, didn't change the draft on his bank accounts, still under his own name. He had opened a new one in Chicago for his new job, under his initials, and changing a single letter in his assumed last name was easy enough and explained by a typo.

She had entirely lost track of time when her cell phone chirped at her. Nancy reached for it without looking at it, her gaze still locked on the computer screen. It was only when she looked down at her phone that her stomach emitted a low gurgle. That morning cup of coffee and bagel had been a long time ago, it seemed.

Her gaze caught the small clock in the corner of her computer's screen on the way down to her phone. Well, at least she would be meeting Frank for lunch in half an hour.

_Got a hot date w/a secretary for lunch - sorry_

Nancy gave a small smile to the screen. _Good luck! Let me know what u find out._

She glanced over at the laptop screen, then moved the mouse to wake the display. The de-encryption program was still running. Her stomach did more than gurgle then; it emitted a louder groan.

Her immediate impulse was to order a sandwich for delivery, but she remembered with a sinking heart that Ned would be going back to school very soon, too soon, and picked up her phone again. _I find I'm free for lunch, babe, if ur interested._

It wasn't that she didn't want Frank and Ned both at lunch. It was that she and Frank would have spent the whole time talking about their case and Ned would have been bored or jealous and Frank was already feeling self-conscious around them after Ned had let Frank's call interrupt their lovemaking and—and she didn't want them together at lunch. She just didn't.

Then she glanced down at the pad she had jotted her idea down on earlier and sent Frank another text.

Ned's response to her question about lunch arrived a few minutes later, and since Nancy's work schedule was by far the more flexible between them, they arranged to meet at a small burger bar not too far from his work. Nancy made sure she had her emergency supplies in her purse in case Frank called her and needed backup, then headed for the train station.

The sight of her husband in a suit and tie always got to Nancy. He was waiting for her outside on the sidewalk, sunglasses on and phone out. He glanced up when she approached, though, and gave her a heart-stopping grin.

"Hey baby. So, the case all solved and life back to 'normal'?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze and a kiss on the temple as they walked into the dim, warm restaurant together. The temperature inside was at least ten degrees cooler than the day, but it still was nowhere near cool, and the scent of flame-broiled grease floated on the air.

"Not quite yet," she admitted to him with an apologetic smile. "But I had an idea, so maybe it won't be too much longer."

"A way to catch whoever did this?"

Nancy nodded, sweeping her hair up into a loose ponytail as they claimed a table. "Want to help me check for loopholes?"

"Love to," Ned told her with a smile.

After lunch, Nancy felt happy. She had always loved talking through a tricky case or a puzzling set of circumstances with Ned, and she loved that he always thought about things in a way that she didn't. They complemented each other well; he was the detail-oriented one, the one who liked to watch her back and provide support and keep her out of trouble, while Nancy had always been eager to get right into the thick of things, to wade into a fight as long as she could see a way to prevail. Maybe she was a bit more cautious now, thanks to that disastrous night those years ago, but with Ned by her side, she felt more than equal to practically any challenge.

Granted, he wouldn't be by her side while she put this plan into action, but at least it meant they could spend more time together soon, assuming Trent didn't put her on another time-intensive case in the brief window before Ned headed back to school.

On her way back to the office, her cell phone rang, and Nancy's heart was beating faster before she even answered the call. "Hello?"

McGinnis sounded a little out of breath. "Nancy? A uniform's out at MorCom requesting the surveillance footage right now. I talked to the M.E. this morning, and that bruise you mentioned, plus a few other inconsistencies—I called in a favor. Preliminary only, though."

"Great," Nancy said. "Can you let me know when the footage comes in?"

"Yes, _but_. I talked to the guys at the station, and you'll need to watch it with one of them, all right?"

"Deal. Thanks a lot, Chief."

"Sure thing, Drew. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

Nancy wrinkled her nose, but she had known River Heights's police chief a long time. If the price of his cooperation was putting up with a little protectiveness, she would.

It was midafternoon when Frank called her back. The de-encryption program had finally finished working its magic, and Nancy had opened a few of the files on the drive. She found schematics, copies of reports, and a lot of screen captures; she didn't find an explanation of what the drive was supposed to prove, though. She supposed that was in the envelope that she feared had been destroyed days earlier.

"I checked with—him—and yeah, that's a possibility," Frank told her, his voice low. "Did you get put on another case or something?"

"No," Nancy reassured him. "Nothing like that. Find out anything good today?"

"Yeah, but I need to wait until I'm... elsewhere."

Nancy quirked an eyebrow up, an anticipatory shiver going down her spine. He really must have found out something interesting. "All right. Call me when you leave there, okay? I'll let you know where I am; if I'm lucky, they'll have surveillance footage at the police station, so I might be down there watching it."

The plan she had talked through with Ned was fairly simple, if they could just figure out the best way to put it into action. Once they were able to watch the surveillance video, though, and see who might have put Theresa's laptop back into her office after her death, the plan would definitely have a better chance of succeeding.

Since the security staff at MorCom had to burn the footage onto DVD, it didn't come in until after the workday was over. By then Nancy had called Enstar and gossiped with a  secretary in the human resources department until she found out what she needed to know. Joe Warner's desk was occupied again and he was back at Enstar.

After that call, Nancy had considered. If the footage showed that Warner had planted Theresa's laptop, Nancy would be surprised. The whole point of corporate espionage was to stay undetected and disturb as little as possible; if the evidence showed that Warner had done anything to sabotage MorCom's projects, he could be brought up on charges. Warner wouldn't have wiped Theresa's laptop—unless something on it definitely incriminated him, in either his spying or her death.

But the method of her murder... and why would Warner have killed her? If she had discovered his identity—but then it would have been a crime of passion, not a carefully staged faked suicide.

Since Nancy didn't know everything that had happened between them, she couldn't eliminate him as a possibility. After all, if they'd had a fight, and she had fallen and accidentally hit her head and died suddenly, Nancy could imagine that he would have done everything he could to avoid a murder investigation, or at least to fake a suicide well enough to keep the police from asking questions until he was safely out of the picture.

_How's it going? Want me to start dinner or meet u somewhere?_

Ned had waited until thirty minutes after his workday was over to contact her, and by then Nancy was on her way over to the police station. Frank had agreed to meet her there. She cringed as she tapped the Reply button, telling herself that the faster they solved the murder, the more time she and Ned would have together. At least, she hoped that was true.

_Still working. Sorry, babe. I'll let u know when I'm on the way but don't wait up. :(_

_Spaghetti? That way u can reheat it when u get in. :) Love u._

_That would be great. Love u._

Nancy sighed as she put her phone away. Her hand drifted up to the heart pendant hanging around her neck as she shifted her foot from the brake to the gas. She truly was luckier than she had ever imagined, and she made a mental note to find a little gift to let Ned know exactly how much she appreciated his understanding. One that involved chocolate, if she could help it.

Waiting for Frank to show up so they could watch the footage for the first time through together was torture. Nancy was about to come out of her skin when Frank finally showed up. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't know how I took that wrong turn." Frank shook his head, jerking the knot of his striped tie away from his neck. His suit was a little rumpled.

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "You take a wrong turn into that flirty secretary's backseat?"

Frank unobtrusively flipped her off as they walked into the police station. "How about don't answer the phone when you're _fucking someone_ ," he shot back, dropping his voice to a whisper at the end of it.

Nancy blushed and damned herself for it. "I _didn't_ ," she muttered.

"Sure."

Shaking her head, Nancy led the way into the station house.

Going through the security footage wasn't quite as excruciating as Nancy had thought it might be, but by the end of it, her stomach was growling loudly and so was Frank's. The crackers and chips he had bought from the vending machine clearly weren't staving off their hunger. The security cameras were motion-activated, and so they didn't have to spend a lot of time fast-forwarding through dead air, but starting on the day that Nancy had impersonated Theresa and going forward from there still took a while.

Then Frank had suggested that they ask McGinnis if he could find out a preliminary time-of-death, pointing out that if Theresa's laptop had been stolen from her home as they had suspected, it most likely hadn't been stolen until after her death.

They ended up with four candidates. One was an assistant from the same lab, whom neither of them recognized immediately. One was Theresa's immediate supervisor, and one was the supervisor of a department who worked closely with hers. The fourth was a member of the cleaning staff, dressed in a nondescript jumpsuit; since they didn't know if the killer hadn't disguised him- or herself, hidden the laptop in the wheeled garbage container, and snuck the laptop back in that way, they couldn't eliminate the person as a suspect.

After thanking McGinnis for his help and promising him something delicious from Hannah's kitchen soon, Nancy and Frank headed out. Nancy's stomach uttered another loud gurgle, and she glanced down at it. "Shh."

"Sounds like you and Ned are expecting some little bouncing bundle of hellspawn," Frank commented with a laugh.

"Bite your tongue," she told him. "I'm just famished."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Focus, Hardy."

"I am focused. On dinner."

Nancy made a face at him. "I'll see you back at my house."

What Ned had thrown together wasn't sophisticated or complicated, but it was still good. He had changed into a Emerson t-shirt and shorts, and he joined them at the table with his beer as Nancy and Frank reheated plates of spaghetti with meat sauce and cheesy garlic bread, freshly toasted thanks to Nancy's call when they had left the station. Nancy didn't come up for air until she was halfway through her plate, and Frank wasn't much better.

"Must be good," Ned commented with a small smile, then tipped his beer back.

"God, so good. Thanks, baby."

"You're welcome, gorgeous."

Frank coughed a few times and wiped his mouth, then gave Nancy an expectant glance. "Yeah, it's good, Nickerson. Thanks. Now, suspects?"

"First, why don't you tell me what you found out with whatever busty blonde secretary you were chatting up at lunch?" Nancy suggested, twirling her fork to gather the long pasta strands.

"Who said she was busty?" Frank muttered. "Anyway. The secretary told me that they were preparing for a visit and they've all been pretty busy—"

"A visit?" Nancy asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Yeah. She didn't exactly explain. I had the impression it was safety inspectors, or maybe a big new account they were hoping to land. I asked her about that new vice president parking spot I'd noticed in the lot, and she said they had done some rearranging... and then she talked about how Warner, Werner, whichever, didn't seem too terribly worried when Theresa was missing. She thinks they might have had a fight. But then the police haven't told anyone a cause of death, and the prevailing theory is sudden death in her home. Possibly thanks to robbers."

"Which might not be far off," Nancy said, picking up her slice of garlic toast. "So Joe's in?"

"Joe's in, but you still haven't told me _why_ ," Frank pointed out, wiping his hands on his napkin.

Nancy glanced over at Ned, who had helped her with the idea. She had no intention of telling Frank that, though—or at least not until he had given the plan his blessing. "All right. I think we need to leave Warner's name in the mix, if only because we don't know if he was working with anyone else—but I think we can work on narrowing the field. My gut tells me he's an opportunistic asshole, but that he wouldn't have risked the investigation if he murdered Theresa. Accidental death, maybe, but wiping the computer... I don't know. Anyway. I'll keep an eye on him anyway.

"Tomorrow morning I'll call the cleaning company MorCom employs—I'm sure the janitorial staff has to go through a thorough background check—and find out who we probably saw on the tape. Eliminating that person should be fairly quick, if we're lucky.

"But for the rest... we go to the other three suspects and tell each a different story."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "We do?"

"Well, Joe does. He walks in, introduces himself as a detective working on the murder investigation—"

"Impersonating law enforcement?"

"You saying he wouldn't?" Nancy asked, raising her own eyebrow. "Because I beg to differ."

"Well, he's gotten better about not breaking the law _quite_ so much, but anyway. So what's the story?"

"He tells one that Theresa apparently hid a flash drive somewhere in her desk, but he's waiting on the search warrant, or he asks if anyone has seen a flash drive near her desk—same reason. The second one, we tell that she's apparently hidden the drive somewhere in her home. The third, we tell we're trying to find the evidence on the network drive."

"And we stake them out," Frank said slowly.

"We plant dummy flash drives—one at her desk where I found the first one, one in her home in her desk. The flash drives have a virus on them that infects the person's computer as soon as he or she tries to read them, or maybe a document that only the killer would try to open, if that makes sense. Similar file on the network drive."

"Mmm. I don't know about the network drive. That would involve hacking already. Maybe if we said the file was on her _laptop_ , and we did something else to it—some sort of transparent powder that would mark the hands of the person who had touched it, or a program that would take a photo of the person accessing it once they open it and immediately transmit it..." Frank was staring off into space, his toast held in midair as he considered.

"Exactly. The culprit, or _culprits_ , try to recover the information they're clearly still worried about, and we have him. Or her."

"Because even if the mastermind had someone else return the laptop, they would be bound to find out about the 'investigation.'" Frank was still using that slow, distracted voice.

"Right." Nancy smiled, then reached for her fork again.

"Not bad, Dr—Nickerson."

"Thanks." Nancy took a bite of her toast and swallowed before adding, "Ned helped me come up with it."

After dinner they moved their discussion into the living room, as Ned worked on another beer. Frank's gaze was still distant, and then his chin tilted up. "Theresa's information was intercepted when she was trying to pass it to a Network agent," he said. "The interception was apparently arranged by whoever killed her."

"Mmm-hmm," Ned murmured, moving his hand in a _get-on-with-it_ gesture.

"So if we truly want to spook the culprit or culprits—Joe doesn't have to pose as a police officer. He can go in as a Network agent."

Nancy raised her eyebrow. "Then do we need Joe? Unless you want to run a variation on a rough shadow."

Frank turned his hand on his knee, palm up. "Might inspire some confidence," he mused. "Get someone to open up, if they think I'm definitely not involved. And if you definitely aren't either."

Ned put his beer down on the coffee table. "So what's the end-game here, guys? The information on the thumb drive, is that what was lost?"

"We have no way to know," Frank pointed out. "And from what I can tell, it's originals and modified versions, but I don't know enough about Theresa's project to be able to tell what the problem is. She had discovered that something was going wrong, that's for sure."

"Something wrong enough that her noticing was enough to get her killed," Nancy put in.

"Something wrong enough that she decided to contact a Network agent instead of a cop," Ned said.

"It could be that she wanted protection that the local cops couldn't have provided," Frank said, then frowned. "But it was too late."

Nancy sighed, looking down at her hands. "And I still don't know yet about who bought that prepaid cell."

"But my point here is—are you trying to discover why she was killed, or who was responsible?" Ned folded his arms.

"Both, I'd think," Frank said.

"So what you really need is a confession."

"Definitely wouldn't hurt," Nancy said, turning to look at her husband with a smile on her lips.

"Then why not take it a step further? Beyond the trap that we're talking about to catch whoever falls for the bait. Joe goes to that person, whoever he or she might be, and says he's found the evidence, but he'd be willing to forget about it, for a price."

"The price being—"

"A full explanation of how things went down?" Nancy leaned forward.

"Well, Joe could say that he doesn't want to be mixed up in a murder investigation—and he wants to know exactly how everything was covered up..." Frank was so eager that his words were overlapping each other.

"And he could be recording it."

Frank smiled. "Which is incredibly easy, now that cell phones can record so well," he pointed out. "All right."

Nancy took her hair down and ran her fingers through it with a sigh. "Is it bad that I wish we could be there for it?"

"Well, it's not over yet," Frank pointed out. "We still need to figure out who Joe needs to approach."

"And the culprit might not fall for it, honey," Ned said, his tone sweetly soothing as he patted her knee, but his eyes were twinkling. Of course he would be happy if Joe was able to wrap up their case in the next day.

Nancy wrinkled her nose at him. "Way to be optimistic, sweetheart."

Ned leaned toward her and swiped his fingertip against the tip of her nose. "That's why you keep me around, after all," he told her with a smile.

Nancy squeezed his knee, then turned to look at Frank again. "What if Joe calls you and lets you record it? At least that way we can monitor what's going on, and if he's in trouble, we can storm in there—"

"And save him?" Frank said with a chuckle. "I'm sure he'd appreciate that."

"Considering the number of times Nan's been doing something entirely harmless and ended up in the emergency room, I'd say it's better to be safe than sorry," Ned pointed out, then reached for his beer again.

"True," Frank shrugged.

Later that night, once Nancy and Ned were in bed, she turned onto her side, nestling her head on his shoulder, her bent knee between his legs. He wrapped his arm around her and dropped a kiss on her head.

"Excited, or sad?" he murmured.

Nancy chuckled. "You know me too well," she whispered.

He shrugged a little; she felt him move under her. "You're my favorite person," he murmured. "And we've been together a long time. If you hadn't gone in undercover as someone else, I can just imagine that you'd be there doing the meet yourself."

"Mmm. Doesn't mean I still can't," she pointed out softly. "Frank's been the one building a rapport with the staff there. Plus I _do_ have access to some pretty awesome wigs."

Ned chuckled. "Thank God. That time when you dyed your hair black to go undercover..."

Nancy pushed herself up a little to look into his face. "What are you trying to say? I didn't look good as a brunette?"

"You looked great, sweetheart," he said, soothing her mock ruffled feathers. "But I have particular tastes, and they're for gorgeous long-legged redheads who occasionally need a good thorough spanking."

With a quiet laugh, she settled against him again. "Good to know," she teased him. "So if I ever feel like being a pure blonde for a little while..."

"Then I'd just have to adjust," he sighed. "But your hair suits you. And you look so beautiful, my gorgeous redhead."

"Are you trying to say I have a temper, Mr. Nickerson?"

"Occasionally," he drawled. "But just a little. And I wouldn't have you any other way."

"Good," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I wouldn't have you any other way either."

He stroked her shoulder. "Just be careful tomorrow," he murmured. "I know you always are..."

Nancy moved her hand to just over his heart, feeling it beat solidly under her palm. "I will be," she said softly. "We have a lot of years ahead of us, Ned, and I have every intention of being there for them."

Ned made a soft sound. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too."

The next morning, when Nancy woke, she felt strange, almost mentally bruised. Her nose was congested too. She recognized it as the lingering trace of a nightmare, but one that hadn't been intense enough to wake her. She was keyed up enough at the thought of solving her case that before she had even finished half of her first cup of coffee, the echo of a headache pounding at the back of her skull had faded.

Frank came downstairs in his shorts and undershirt, scrubbing the heel of his hand against the stubbled line of his jaw; Nancy could hear the shower upstairs and briefly regretted that she hadn't joined Ned in it. "I had an idea—" she began, but Frank held up his hand, palm out, and reached for a mug.

She waited until he had prepared his cup of coffee and was taking the first sip. "The janitor and the other researcher are less likely candidates," she said.

Frank nodded. "And Werner didn't go into the lab during the appropriate frame."

"So we send the two supervisors the same email—I know what you did; meet me at a certain location tonight at eight. Something like that."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "From Theresa's account."

Nancy released a low whistle. "Mmm. I like it. Before or after we send Joe in, or do we even need him?"

Frank shrugged. "His plane is coming in this morning, so why not put him in? We can give him an appropriately-sized manila envelope to carry around; might spook someone. And tonight, who's to say that we can't all three be at the meeting?"

Nancy's stomach twisted. All three of them together and working on a case again. "We can work that out," she said.

While Frank was taking the next shower, Nancy went into the bedroom she and Ned shared. He was holding a button-down shirt and a clean undershirt, already wearing his suit pants, but his chest was bare. She had a mug of coffee she had already prepared for her husband in her hand, and when she saw him, she almost offered it to him. Instead she put it down on the dresser.

"You okay?" Ned asked quietly.

Nancy nodded, then took the few steps separating them. He tossed the shirts onto the bed and opened his arms to her, and she wrapped her arms around him too, pressing her face against the side of his neck.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, and she closed her eyes as he stroked his palm down her back, then back up. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered.

He just held her for a moment, then kissed her temple and released her. She could feel his gaze on her, but it was nothing, and she didn't want to upset him. Even though the scarred bullet hole in her chest was aching a little, as though in sympathy with her anxiety.

She dressed for work in a fitted red blouse and a grey skirt, and smiled to herself when she very nearly put on her red-soled black stilettos. For a while she had fantasized about surprising her husband at lunch one day while wearing a similar outfit; she just hadn't gotten around to it. Maybe, she thought to herself, on a day when he didn't have school that night and she didn't have a tiring caseload...

It was easier to think about that than what was about to happen, even though she felt herself becoming more excited at the prospect of catching Theresa's killer. She knew that she needed to be careful, but she always was.

Frank went to the airport to pick up his brother, and Nancy went to work, telling Frank that she would do some legwork before they had lunch together to discuss the plan. She found a message already waiting for her when she came in, and when she hung up the phone after listening to it, she had paled under her makeup.

Well, Frank had said that MorCom had several government contracts. She knew she shouldn't be surprised.

The debit card had been purchased with a company credit card. The manager had given her the name of the company, and it was one she recognized, from years ago. Years ago when she had been working with Frank and Joe on cases. No wonder Theresa hadn't trusted anyone, hadn't trusted any electronic communication. She had tried to be careful; she just hadn't been quite careful enough.

Very slowly, the hair rising on the back of her neck, Nancy closed her eyes and thought back over the past few days, every favor she had called in, every clue she had uncovered, making sure she had kept everything secure. Within the building their network was shielded from hackers and outside influence, but she knew how tenuous that security could be. Her home Wi-Fi was password-protected, but she knew that security could be broken easily, too.

The sound of unmuffled conversations being held outside her cubicle became louder for a moment, then receded again; Nancy heard someone move into her cubicle space. When she opened her eyes, Jules was standing on the other side of her desk, gazing at her. Jules's eyes were wide.

"Late night?"

Nancy shook her head with a sigh. "No. Just figured out who I'm up against..."

"You don't look happy about it, either."

Nancy shrugged. She had felt on edge since her alarm had gone off; this didn't feel incredibly different. "What's up?"

"Another rush job. Sounds pretty simple, though. A pickup and drop-off."

When Desmond had passed the original impersonation job to Nancy, she had just been irritated that it might interfere with her anniversary trip. Now, as she took the message slip and read it, she felt her lips tighten. The client had specifically asked for whoever had performed the previous job.

She was a loose end. They would want to tie up all the loose ends, especially now that the police had begun looking into Theresa's death.

The job was for that afternoon, in Millennium Park. During the summer, on a day with pleasant weather, the park would be crowded with people, both tourists and locals. One of them could brush by her in the crowd, silenced handgun under a folded jacket, and that would be it. A knife in the ribs. A sniper's bullet. A random act of violence. She would be mourned, and the police would find no evidence, no fingerprints. No impersonator. No motive and no questions.

Nancy felt that same nervous twinge down her spine. "I need a vest," she said, and Jules's eyes widened again.

She picked up her cell phone. _We might need to make this a brunch date. Let me know when you & Joe leave airport._

When Nancy had met the Network agent, and even when she had picked up the original set of forged documents, she had been disguised as Theresa. She hoped, though she was unconvinced, that the disguise had been convincing. She didn't know if one of _them_ waited for her outside the building, though.

She was a loose end. And Frank had turned himself into one when he had gone to MorCom and forged his way in. His work for Network was of necessity undercover, but that didn't mean he was entirely anonymous. Together he and Joe had pissed off their fair share of mercenaries and enemy agents.

_If you have vests, you might want to put them on._

Trent was in a meeting when Nancy went to his office. She checked her phone impatiently for an answer from Frank, and when she heard the conversation behind the door growing louder, she glanced up. Trent had blocked off the meeting on the internal calendar, but it was supposed to already be finished. Her fingertips rose to the heart pendant hanging just under the top button of her shirt, and just the feel of the chain against the pads of her fingers made her feel a little better. Trent ended the meeting with a handshake and a charming grin; his shirt was pale lavender, his tie paisley. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her waiting.

"Nickerson?" he said after the slightest pause. "Is it quick?"

"Might be," she said, coming into his office. The green banker's lamp was off, and Trent's recently departed guest had left a faint scent behind him, musk and sandalwood and a hint of mint. Nancy took the oxblood visitor's chair as Trent sat down in his own chair. His desk's surface was polished to an unblemished gleam, nary a fingerprint smudge in sight.

"The impersonation case I've been backtracing with Hardy," she began with little preamble. "I'm pretty sure the people behind hiring the firm have decided I'm a loose end and they need to finish me off."

"Are you close?"

Nancy nodded. "The information on the debit card finally came through," she said, and Trent's eyebrows went up when she told him about it, and about the job Jules had handed over that morning. "Frank's brother is coming in this morning, and I'd like to borrow a van this afternoon to get any confession or incriminating evidence on tape. I've already made a copy of the flash drive we recovered from her workplace."

"And you'll be using it as leverage."

"Probably. Gonna play it by ear."

Trent chuckled, a low, mirthless sound. "Try to stay in the van, okay?" he suggested, reaching for his computer's mouse to check current assignments. "And, since I know you won't be able to... take Martin with you."

Charity Martin was new to Trent's agency, but she had tracked down two people in spectacular form. Nancy hadn't worked with her yet, but Desmond and Jules had both told her Martin was cautious and thorough, but not without a sense of the dramatic. Nancy had a feeling they would get along well.

Martin was out on a stakeout, but Michelle was going to relieve her at lunch, so Nancy left a note for her before she put on a vest and headed out to meet the Hardys. She was extremely careful, watching to see if anyone seemed to be following her; she didn't spot anyone, but that didn't make her feel any better. Either they weren't after her yet, or they were being very careful about it.

Joe eyed Nancy with some amusement when she approached them at the appointed café, her steps quicker than usual. He gave her the same grin he usually did. "Nice to see you, Nan."

"Nice to see you, too," she told him with a smile, but her smile was quick. "We have a wrinkle."

"A wrinkle requiring vests," Frank said, raising his eyebrows.

Nancy explained that she had found out who had purchased the prepaid debit card that had been used to hire Trent's agency's services, and the job she had been asked to do in Millennium Park. "I think it's to draw me out," she said. "I think the official murder investigation has someone spooked."

"So we should go ahead and contact our suspects," Frank suggested. "Whoever the connection is at MorCom, that person might be a loose end as well."

"We do still have a bargaining chip," Nancy pointed out. "I don't think anyone knows about the thumb drive, or how much—or little—is on it."

Frank took a long sip of his soda, his gaze gone distant. Nancy was fidgeting with her engagement and wedding rings, sliding them up and down the join of her finger. The three of them together again... it hadn't been the first time, and it wasn't a guarantee of bad luck...

But, Nancy remembered Ned pointing out early in their relationship, trouble had a habit of following the Hardy brothers around, and catching anyone associated with them in its wake.

"So, let's think this through," Frank said, his fingertips leaving trails in the condensation on the glass. He used his other hand to push his sunglasses up his nose. "If you go to Millennium Park this afternoon..."

Nancy was shaking her head before he had even begun to trail off. "No," she said. "There's no way it isn't a trap."

"It's also possible that whoever's hired you wants to pay you off and make sure you never come forward." Joe rolled his eyes before taking out his cell phone.

"And the only way to guarantee I don't come forward is to kill me," Nancy pointed out. "If I'm on the radar at all—and all three of us know these guys don't fuck around."

"And if you're a loose end—"

"Then the connection at MorCom is a loose end," Nancy said. "I think we have to move up the timeline."

Joe dressed in a nondescript suit, checking his appearance to make sure he fit the typical profile of an agent, and carried a plain black briefcase. He went in using his own Network identification, and Frank went in about thirty minutes later. Nancy was glad the family resemblance between them wasn't terribly strong; they were unlikely to be recognized as brothers.

_Just sent the email to the suspects here._

Nancy reviewed it, knowing full well that it was too late to change anything. She was expecting the message to come from Theresa's email account, but seeing her name as the sender still jarred her a little. Nancy had no way to save her now, but at least she could make sure that her death hadn't been for nothing. 

_I know what you did, and I have evidence I'm going to take to the police. Meet me at six o'clock tonight and we can discuss it._

Nancy had located three identical flash drives, just in case. Theresa's original drive still bore a minuscule triangular scrap of masking tape, but Nancy had no intention of bringing Theresa's original drive to their meetings. She stashed the drives in her attaché case, then let out her breath in a long sigh. At least her protective vest was thin enough to be inconspicuous.

Someone at MorCom had killed Theresa, or knew who had. The same person who had gained access and put her wiped laptop back at her desk, trying to cover all the evidence up. Nancy knew she needed to go inside, but she still felt unnerved by the Millennium Park job. Trent had agreed to have Jules send a message to the anonymous email address used to set up the job and say that she was unavailable for that afternoon, just so it wouldn't raise too much suspicion.

Martin pulled up in one of the company vans, which bore signage for a small, generic electronics-service company. Nancy cast a careful glance at the MorCom building before she strode over to the van. The lock thunked up just before she put her hand on the rear-entrance handle.

"Nickerson?"

"Martin," Nancy said with a nod as she climbed on board. Charity wore a neutral polo and khakis to maintain the cover provided by the van; her braided hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Minimal makeup emphasized her high cheekbones and dark-brown skin. "Earpieces?"

"Four, right? One for me..."

Nancy nodded, and texted both Frank and Joe to come out so they could be fitted. She palmed the one meant for Frank, and Martin took the one for Joe. They arranged for a brush pass.

As soon as the comm link was established and they had checked it, Nancy took a deep breath. "So?"

"Nolan's spooked," Joe reported. His voice was low, but it carried well over the comm line.

"Wong's secretary is... well, he's spooked too, but I get the feeling it's not about the murder," Frank said.

"I'll see what I can find out," Nancy said, then took a deep breath. "So, Charity?"

"I'll monitor," Martin confirmed. "If anything comes up, I'll meet you at the southeast entrance, okay?"

Nancy nodded, then headed back to her car to check her appearance one last time before she went into the building.

She didn't need to approach Wong's secretary directly, and she was grateful for that. She was able to position herself near Wong's secretary when she was on break and speaking to someone else in her department, and she overheard their conversation. Apparently Wong had made a pass at Theresa at some time in the last six months; since the police had come to MorCom investigating the death, Wong was apparently nervous that they would find out and somehow blame him for provoking her to suicide, and worse, that his _wife_ would find out about it.

A disappointed flirtation wasn't what they were after, though. Nancy mentally struck him off the list.

The secretaries were far more interested in the Network agent, though, and Nancy perked up when she heard that. Despite his appearance, which was more clean-cut than usual, Joe still had the kind of slow, knowing grin that made him kryptonite to most women and the occasional man. It was like putting a lion in a business suit, she mused; maybe the muscles were all covered, maybe he was clean-shaven, but there was no disguising him. Nancy hoped that his arrival had the intended effect.

She was talking to the head of security, ostensibly to evaluate their system for implementation in another facility, when she heard Frank say quietly in her earpiece, "Nolan just replied to the email. 'Who is this' question mark. I'm going to let him sweat for a little while."

"What's his full name?" Charity replied. "Let me pull his financials."

"I think Nan already did," Frank replied.

Nancy looked at the security chief and thanked him for the information, excusing herself so she could reply to their conversation. "I ran a general bio, but the request for his credit information has probably come through by now," she murmured, as soon as she was safely out of earshot. "Same thing with Wong and Kaplan. A large even cash sum might be a good tip-off, but whoever contacted him might be waiting to pay him, or he might be sitting on it until he can find a good way to launder it."

As Charity worked on accessing the information, Nancy checked her phone. _Hope things are going OK. Love you._

She smiled. _Love you too,_ she replied to her husband's text, then navigated to her email. The background check on the janitorial worker had come back clean. It wasn't quite enough to make her discount him completely—nothing was, now that she had found out who was behind the impersonation—but Nolan's nervousness was making him the more likely candidate.

Nancy turned off her phone's display, then sighed. Before the advent of cell phones, bugging Nolan's phone would have been so much easier...

But that didn't mean it wasn't still possible.

Nancy headed out to the van, and after they talked it over, Charity headed inside, a handful of tiny bugs hidden in her pocket. While she was inside, Nancy took over the search through the suspects' financials.

"Nolan just sent another message," Frank reported quietly. "'How much?'"

Nancy released a soft mirthless chuckle. "Sounds like we're getting close," she murmured. "Sent him anything back yet?"

"Not yet. Found any likely motive?"

Nancy propped her chin on the heel of her hand as she scrolled through a credit report. "The usual youthful indiscretions," she murmured, then chuckled a little to herself. Nolan was about ten years her senior. "A few pings on his credit, but it looks like... yeah. Two years ago he moved into a very nice house, bought a new car..."

"Promotion?"

"Maybe the promise of one," Nancy murmured, her voice almost flat as she kept studying the laptop monitor. Her polished fingertips swiped over the trackpad as she navigated down the screen. "Three months ago... another new car. Teenaged son. He's racking it up."

"Which makes him prime bait for someone trying to get some information," Frank murmured. "Influx of cash just when he needs it."

"Mmm." Nancy pushed herself back, then sighed. "If he's desperate for the money, he might do something equally desperate if we threaten him," she pointed out.

Frank had just started to say something else when Charity opened the door and climbed back into the van. "Okay," she said. "I managed to bug the pen Nolan's carrying in his breast pocket."

"Nice," Nancy said with a smile. "Let's tune in. Frank, why don't you feel him out?"

"How much would he expect to be paid over this job?" Charity asked, turning on another computer.

Nancy shrugged. "Not sure, since we're still not sure what Theresa found or what, exactly, she was working on."

"The big dogs are already in town, though, aren't they?" Charity pointed out.

"Especially if they were expecting to deal with me today," Nancy picked up her train of thought. "We give Nolan a number, and he might get someone higher up to bankroll this, or to step in and take care of it."

"Meaning this might get out of control quickly."

Nancy was so excited that her words practically overlapped. "So we arrange a meeting, then get Nolan first so we can set up a trap. After all, we don't know how many of _them_ we should expect."

"Which means we need the cops."

"Or Network," Nancy pointed out. "Frank?"

"Or both," he muttered. "All right. Time to hurry up and wait."

The wait wasn't long, as it turned out. Nolan's voice was jumping with tension as he pulled out his cell phone. He muttered about the line being "secure," but of course the line wasn't bugged; Nolan himself was. Charity turned up the sound so they could pick up on any sign of the other side of the conversation.

"You know," Charity muttered, "Nolan's more dangerous than you are. You're a loose end, but he's a powder keg."

Nancy nodded, running her thumb against the chain of her necklace. The excitement of being so close to catching him was thrumming under her skin.

She heard a soft email ping during the conversation, but only when it was over did she realize that it hadn't been on Nolan's end of the line. "Hmm," Frank said softly, as Charity ran a quick search. "Email from Kaplan, asking where."

Nancy's eyes widened as she looked at Charity. "That's a wrinkle."

"Think they're working together?" Frank murmured.

"Unless they contact each other now, we won't know," Nancy pointed out. "Frank, you managed to get into Theresa's email account; can you check Kaplan's?"

"I might be able to get there the long way," Frank mused. "Not tap directly into his email, but the network admin would be able to monitor his usage, any information that he sends through the network."

"And he would be an idiot to use his network account," Charity pointed out. They heard Nolan muttering to himself, but no keystrokes or mouse clicks to explain.

"Too bad we couldn't get any spyware on his cell phone. I think he's using it right now."

"So, now what?" Nancy's heart was in her throat. "Divide and conquer?"

"Nan, what are you seeing on Kaplan's financials?" Joe cut in.

Nancy pulled up Kaplan's credit report and began to scroll through it slowly, starting with the most recent information. "Nothing," she said softly. "He lives within his means. Used car loans. Same house for the past ten years. Modest department store credit lines. But he's Nolan's _boss_..."

"Doesn't go in for conspicuous consumption, then," Frank said.

"Shit," Nancy muttered. "If we'd had time to do legwork on this, we would've had them staked out for at least a few days, able to see if anything has changed in the routine. Maybe he met someone; maybe he's sick of being pushed around at work..."

Charity raised an eyebrow as Nancy mused. "Projecting?"

Nancy gave her a quick smile. "Nah. But there has to be a motive."

Charity shrugged. "Sheer opportunistic greed always seems like a good one," she said.

"What projects are the two of them working on? Frank?" Nancy asked.

"I'll see what I can find out," he replied.

Even so, Nancy knew what would happen. At six o'clock, whoever Nolan had contacted would arrive, ready to tie up _all_ the loose ends. Network agents and policemen could be in place, but the meetings hadn't been staggered.

Charity had tuned in to the bug in Kaplan's office, and glanced up at Nancy with her eyes wide. "Kaplan just told his secretary he'll be back in an hour."

"Frank? Joe?"

"Still trying to access the projects list," Frank reported.

Joe didn't reply immediately; through the comm link, Nancy could hear him holding a conversation with someone. She saw Kaplan pass through the security booth at the edge of the building, then stride briskly into the parking lot.

There was only one thing to do. Nancy brushed her skirt off, grabbed a wireless receiver, and opened the back door of the van.

"Keep in touch."

Nancy nodded. "Trent has the tracker on my cell if you don't hear from me," she said quickly, then headed for her car.

As soon as she began to follow him, Nancy had the terrible feeling that they were heading for Millennium Park, that she hadn't been able to avoid going there after all, but Nolan didn't head to the park. Instead, he went to Navy Pier, and she had a difficult, but not impossible, time keeping him in sight. He stopped near the ferry booth, and a group of high school students shepherded by a trio of harried-looking chaperones passed between Nancy and her quarry. She had her cell phone out. If she had been able to find a good vantage point from which she would be unobserved, a telephoto lens on one of Trent's newest cameras would have been the best, but she could make do with this.

She was alone. A pier, and knowing that Frank and Joe were also on the case...

Nancy took a deep breath, zooming in and catching a grainy snapshot of the tall man who approached Kaplan on the pier. She hadn't grabbed headphones to listen in on the bug they had planted on Kaplan, but at least this way they would have the conversation recorded. If the sound of the wind off the water and the background noise didn't drown them out, anyway.

The meeting was brief, and Nancy was paying attention; she didn't see a sheaf of money pass between them, or any sort of note whatsoever. What she _did_ see, though, was the hand that closed around her arm, just above the elbow.

"So you decided to come out after all. Agent."

Nancy had never really been an agent. She had assisted agents, including Frank and Joe; she had acted as one a few times. When the case was over, though, so was the association. She was a detective, an operative, an investigator, but not an agent, not for Network or anyone else.

But they didn't know that.

Nancy's bare skin felt like it crawled under the iron grip, and for a split second she wished for those wicked red-soled stilettos before she jammed her heel into the man's shin. He winced, but didn't release her arm; she grabbed the gun holstered at the small of her back with her non-dominant hand, pressing the muzzle against his belly.

"Parking lot. Now."

His hand snaked under his suit coat. Nancy jammed the muzzle of her gun harder into his belly, then dragged it down so it was pointed directly at his crotch. The man's eyes widened, and he raised his hand, showing her that it was empty.

" _Now._ "

God, she longed for the cases that let her walk around in sneakers and t-shirts. She had no intention of shooting the man she marched out to the parking lot, and she was pretty sure he knew that; he also didn't answer her questions, but that didn't surprise her. When a group of preschoolers passed in front of them, he shoved her off balance, then broke through them easily. Nancy teetered on her heels until she regained her balance. She had caught a good long glimpse of his face, long enough to come up with a good sketch, but she already knew who he was working for.

She dashed for her car, keeping him in sight, but she had no idea how many more of them were around. She did know one thing. Nolan was dangerous, but Kaplan was worse.

On the way back, she spotted a dark late-model car that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It passed and a silver sedan took its place, but she was familiar with the strategy. They had found her, and they knew her destination, but they needed to make sure.

She tapped her Bluetooth headset and called the switchboard, and Jules forwarded her call to Charity's cell. "Nickerson?"

"Yeah. They found me anyway; they know I'm involved, but the three of you might be safe. I have an idea. If you can, grab Nolan and Kaplan at the same time— _separately_ , so they can't start any trouble. Try to get their confessions recorded. I'm going to lead these guys out to Theresa's house."

"Backup," Charity said urgently. "You're gonna need—"

"I'll call in and get some. Get Frank to call some in too. We might need some firepower." Nancy patted the side of her vest for reassurance. As comforting as she found it, it definitely wouldn't protect her from a head shot. Immediately she checked the next lane, then swung into it. "Be careful."

"That goes double for you. I might get someone to relieve me just so I can get out there."

Nancy hadn't yet been in a tight situation with Charity, but her gut told her she could trust the new operative. She hoped she was right. "I'll see you, here or there," Nancy said, then hung up.

Jules, to her credit, was quick to understand what Nancy needed. The good thing about running one of these cases during the summer was the number of college students looking to make a quick buck; they were able to take some of the protection cases that only required an imposing frame and a taser. That left Desmond and Bill free to back her up. Nancy wasted ten minutes taking the long way out to Theresa's house, hoping that would give them enough time to make it out there before she did.

They definitely hadn't left the house in this state, Nancy thought after she parked three houses down and walked briskly to the house, finding the spare key exactly where she had left it and keying in through the back. The cops might chalk up the vandalism to bored teenagers, and she could feel a light breeze through whatever window had been broken to allow the intruder entry, but she knew what that specific brand of chaos looked like: beer bottles, plastic cups, spray paint, broken glass. Casual and thoughtless. She saw a spill of hastily-opened mail on the kitchen floor, frozen food thawing in drying puddles on the kitchen linoleum, cabinets left open. Slowly she walked into the main living area, a thumb drive in her hand, her gun already out in her right. Her phone was able to act as a wireless receiver through her Bluetooth headset, so she made sure her hair was covering the earpiece as she cautiously moved toward the fireplace. The microfiber upholstery on the couches and armchair had been slashed open; bits of stuffing partially blanketed the floor.

It wasn't the work of a professional. Nancy was able to get into a locked home and do a thorough search, leaving the occupants none the wiser. This had been a hasty search done in a panic. Through an open doorway Nancy could see Theresa's desk, drawers pulled out, the contents littering the floor.

Nancy did a mental count. Two minutes for Bill to change into a generic utility jumpsuit and grab a ring of company keys from Jules...

When her phone rang, Nancy nearly jumped a foot into the air, she was so keyed up. She tucked the thumb drive into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

"On the way." Charity's voice was terse.

"Good," Nancy said, then slotted her phone back into her other pocket.

The exterior door into the garage squeaked faintly. Nancy's gaze immediately went to that door, her heart beating harder. She moved to keep it within her sights. She watched the doorknob turn—and so of course her first sight was of the gun.

"You're trespassing."

She couldn't be sure, but his build matched the build of the guy who had met Kaplan at the pier. His light-eyed gaze was steady on her face; the gun was steady in his hand. Nolan might have done this hasty search, but the man in front of her hadn't.

The man who had grabbed her at the pier had called her an agent. The man in front of her had the temperament of an agent, the assured demeanor.

"So are you."

"Why here?"

Nancy shrugged. As soon as the tall man had entered the room, her jangling nerves hadn't calmed—she had just reached a place past them, where she could shove her nervousness and fear away until the situation was safe again. Desmond and Bill and Charity were on the way. It was only a matter of time.

"The guys I'm working with—they set their sights too low," she told the tall man. "The guy at MorCom was small potatoes. But whoever paid to have that package intercepted? That's where the money and the influence are." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the flash drive, holding it up.

The man's head didn't move; his gaze flicked to the drive, then back to her face again. "And that is?"

"A copy," she said. "And I'm willing to sell it, for a price."

"And you just happened to find it."

"I stashed it here. Couldn't take the chance if my office was searched."

He tilted his head a few degrees. "A copy is worthless."

"A copy _is_ worthless," she agreed. "A copy and the original, swapped out for duplicates _you_ provide? I think that's worth something."

He took a step toward her and Nancy felt the scarred wound in her chest ache once. "Looking to defect?"

She shook her head. "I'm happy where I am, and I have no intention of taking our relationship beyond this one transaction," she said. "But I have a taste for the finer things, and I think you might be able to help me with that."

"One time only." His lips curved up in a faintly sardonic smile.

"One time only. The 'suicide' investigation remains inconclusive, we helped you find two weak links in the chain... and that's it."

His gaze rose again. "And if we found other small jobs that might be worth your time and within your skill set?"

"You mean you don't want a duplicate of this clusterfuck?" She gestured around the decimated room, her gun still steady on him, her gaze still locked to his face too. "If you'd approached me earlier..."

"This? Surely you don't think we did this." He took another small step toward her. "But we _did_ go over this place with a fine-toothed comb. And you stashed that here?"

She nodded, thinking fast. "Behind a loose brick in the fireplace," she said, remembering a similar case when she had actually found some evidence that way. Other stock hiding places—in the toilet tank, under drawers... they would have looked there.

_Come on. Come on_ , Nancy thought. Surely Bill and Desmond had made it out, even if Charity hadn't yet.

"So you couldn't buy her off," Nancy said, her voice even and cool as the man took another step toward her. "Is that why you had to make it look like a suicide?"

He shrugged. "She had no intention of being the scapegoat, money be damned," he said, taking another step. Soon he would be within armspan, and at that range, the vest was even less a guarantee of her safety. "And, as the daughter of the last honest defense attorney in Illinois, I can imagine you have that same prejudice. We have the schematics, and that's all we needed. The original is worthless. I appreciate the idea, though."

"So that's it?" Nancy didn't want to take a step back, didn't want to show any weakness, but she also didn't want him close enough to touch her.

Both their gazes went to the door when the doorbell rang, and Nancy saw a flash of navy coverall through the tall window beside the door. "Hello, anyone here? Hello?"

Nancy's last thought was a fervent prayer that Desmond was vested as she dashed to the back door and let Bill in, the confession recorded and safe in her pocket.

\--

"So. You're in one piece. Totally in one piece."

Nancy nodded at Ned, glancing over at him, a smile turning up the corners of her lips. Kaplan and Nolan were in police custody. The tall man and two of his associates were in Network custody. He had clammed up once the cavalry arrived, but Nolan had spilled everything he knew once begging and pleading with Joe had proven hopeless.

They had needed someone to take the fall for the loss of data, and Theresa had been most involved in the project. Nolan had tried to guess her password, and when she had returned to find herself locked out of the network, she had grown suspicious. She had started encrypting her files, but the ones kept on the work server were left unencrypted.

The plan was that Theresa wouldn't notice, that she might unceremoniously be fired in five or six months, but her alarm had stepped up the timeline. She had grown cautious, but when she had contacted Dieter to pass the schematics and plans and all the evidence she had collected to Network, that had been the last straw. She knew too much; she had to be eliminated. To buy them time, Nancy had been hired to impersonate Theresa and pass along a set of phony but convincing papers. Warner had been a corporate spy, not a representative from a foreign government, and Theresa's death had made the work at MorCom too dangerous for him.

She had been surrounded by people who wanted to use her, and even though Nancy had never met Theresa, she still felt sorry for her. She hadn't deserved her fate.

"Totally in one piece," Nancy confirmed. "Not even a scratch."

"I'll just have to make sure of that myself," Ned said, and when his hand came over to rest on her knee, she giggled and almost pushed it away, but they were almost home and she couldn't.

They had met Joe, Frank, and Jules, Desmond, and Bill for celebratory drinks before the Hardys' flight out. The guest bedroom was empty. Their home was theirs again. And Ned was happily buzzed.

That awareness, that Ned would be in class soon—it had only grown more urgent. She didn't dread it the way she had dreaded her time at Wilder, but she couldn't be excited at the prospect of spending time away from her husband. Everything would be all right, she knew. Everything had to be all right.

The Hardys were gone and she had her husband all to herself again. She intended to make the most of it.

The townhouses on their cul-de-sac were punctuated by dim golden squares of lighted windows; bicycles and primary-colored pedal-cars had been left abandoned and forlorn beside driveways, at the edge of dandelion-strewn lawns. She smelled fresh-mown grass, seared meat, the barest hint of rain drifting on the air.

Even better, though, the order she had taken the time to place that afternoon had arrived. She saw the ribbon-topped box waiting in the shadows at their front door, and she smiled.

She knew the moment Ned saw it, too. He stopped, stock-still, and held out a hand to hold her back. "Nan—"

She took his hand. "It's all right. I ordered it."

"You're sure?"

She nodded earnestly; she couldn't laugh, because more than once his caution had been prudent. "I promise. Just as a little thank-you for being so incredible these past few days, and just in general."

He relaxed only once a careful sniff of the package told him nothing more dangerous than chocolate was inside. As soon as the door was closed, Nancy stepped out of her heels, letting out a soft moan.

"Mmm," Ned murmured in approval, then grinned when he saw the four cupcakes in the box. "Well, now I'll _definitely_ try to be incredible more often."

He grabbed one before following her upstairs. The afternoon had been so busy, making statements and helping collect information to turn over to the authorities, that she had kept the vest on all day. Slowly Nancy unbuttoned her shirt, slipping it down. Her pencil skirt had fit snugly over the vest, and she winced as her compressed flesh was exposed to the air.

Ned put the cupcake down on the dresser and looped his arm around her waist, drawing her with him to their bedside. He had seen her put on and take off vests before; he gently unfastened the straps, and her body, her chest, seemed to expand as he lifted it off her. He put it down, then reached for the bedside lamp, turning it on and then sitting down at the edge of the mattress.

His tanned, handsome face was cast in blue-tinged shadow as he gazed up at her, looping his arms around her waist and drawing her closer. She wore a plain beige bra and he gently slipped it down; when he reached for the band of her pantyhose, she sat down and helped him work them off. With every layer they removed she felt herself relax a few more degrees.

Ned had been drinking; Nancy had limited herself to a single mixed drink, and she had nursed that. Joe and Frank had described their work on the case in broad strokes, the way they had found information on the company's network and gleaned information from suspects.

And Nancy had smiled and listened, letting Bill and Desmond describe the confrontation at Theresa's house, smiling apologetically when Charity said how sorry she was for having missed the action. She had grabbed a guy who had been approaching from the backyard, but Nancy could tell she wished she had been there for the meeting on the pier and all that had happened after.

_Always have backup._ Nancy had learned that lesson the hard way. _Missing an opportunity hurts, but dying is worse._

Ned turned to her when she was clad only in her panties, wiggling her unconfined toes, but when his dark eyes met hers, the attack of jittering nerves she had been ignoring all afternoon came back.

Her fingertips trembled as she ran them through his hair. She panted and then he drew her into his arms, holding her to him, his face against her shoulder as she clung to him in return. With a soft whimper she began to unbutton his shirt, and together they took it off, pulled his undershirt over his head, so they could be skin to skin.

"Nancy," he whispered, and she shivered, closing her eyes.

_If you go to Millennium Park this afternoon..._

She let out a soft wounded gasp and he kissed the side of her neck, one arm wrapped protectively around her, the other stroking against her back. She nuzzled against him, drawing in the scent of him, and while the bite of alcohol on his breath made her shiver a little, she still felt safe.

"It's all right," Ned whispered, and then he kissed the scarred hole in her chest.

Nancy's nails dragged against his shoulder blades, and when he began to lie down, she shook her head, pulling him to her again. He kept holding her, his lips soft against her shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's all right."

"Yeah." Ned moved back to look into her eyes, stroking her hair back from her cheek. "You're okay. I love you, and I'm so glad you're here with me."

She gave him a small smile. "Me too," she whispered, then leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss.

"You were quiet tonight."

"Yeah," she whispered. "I feel bad that I helped cover up her death. I feel bad that I was even involved. But I'm glad it's over."

"You didn't know."

"I know." She sighed. "I bought those cupcakes for you... after how great you've been, with the foot massage and putting up with all my late hours..."

"And I think it's only fair that you get one too," he told her with a smile. "Maybe even two, if you're especially good."

" _Good?_ " Her smile grew wider. "I remember someone telling me that he wanted to try out that secretary fantasy again soon..."

"But you already seem to be practically naked, Miss Drew," he pointed out, hooking his thumb in the waistband of her panties. "So maybe you could indulge me some other way. Let's give the bed a rest and go back downstairs..."

Nancy chuckled, then patted the mattress. "Later," she told it, and when Ned wrapped his arms tight around her and stood, she couldn't help laughing.

"So tell me about these cupcakes, babe."

"They're supposed to be incredible. But I couldn't help wondering..."

"Oh?"

"I know you like salted caramel... how do you feel about maybe licking it off my nipples?"

"Very, _very_ interested," he told her, and claimed her lips in a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

The porch light was burning outside the townhouse's front door, and Ned hitched the strap of his messenger bag a little higher on his shoulder as he strode toward it. Their street was quiet, and he couldn't believe how exhausted he felt. The instructor had released the class at nine-thirty, and even with a fifteen-minute break after the first hour and a half, Ned still had a mild headache pulsing behind his eyes.

The last time he had been in class, he had been living at Emerson, returning to his fraternity house after classes. Sometimes the girl he was dating at the time would be waiting for him there. A few times, that girl had been Nancy, but that had been a long time ago.

Everything was different now, though. His undergraduate years at Emerson had been so much fun, punctuated by the panic of term papers and finals and the last few seconds on the game clock; he had been out on his own, away from his parents for the first time, not known solely as  _James Nickerson's boy_ , and he had loved it.

Now he had a wife, a house he paid for every month, a career. Now he wasn't coming back to that room on the fraternity house's second floor, unsure of what he would find inside; he wasn't coming back to his basement apartment in that time when he and Nancy had been tentatively dating again, back to darkness and cool, a place he would have to fill with warmth and light all by himself. She was home waiting for him, and until he had seen that porch light burning, he had thought he might come home to an empty house, that she might have filled the time with another assignment.

Despite his general weariness, he had to smile when he keyed into their front door and opened it. Nancy was on the couch, the afghan half-draped over her, her head resting against a pillow supported by one of the couch's arms. The television was on, and a sweating glass stood half-empty on the coffee table near her, but she was curled up and asleep, her breathing soft and even, her arms wrapped around her waist. Just seeing her that way made him even more tired in sympathy.

He tried to close the door quietly behind him, but she made a soft noise and began to stir, opening her eyes. "Hey baby," he murmured.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and gave him a smile. "Hey! So how was it?"

Ned exhaled, shrugging the strap of his bag down to the crook of his elbow, then down to the floor. Nancy scooped up the remote and turned down the television's volume, then stood up and took his bag, leaving it beside the coffee table. "It was the usual first-day bullshit: syllabus, introduce yourself to some other students, some preliminary stuff. I have a lot to read before next time, too."

Nancy smiled at him. "But I'm sure you're excited."

He nodded. "Yeah. It feels good to do this, even if it's not going to be a cake walk."

"Here! Sit down. I'll get you a beer."

Ned chuckled as he collapsed to the couch, toeing his shoes off. Many of the other people in his class had been dressed the way he was: suit jacket off, tie loosened a little, but otherwise in their usual business attire. Three women were in his class, and they had all seated themselves on the front row, polished fingertips poised over laptop keyboards before the professor's first word had been spoken. Ned had been impressed, but not too shocked, to see them there.

"Hey, babe," he called, tilting his head back. "I'm exhausted, so no beer. Do we have any lemonade?"

"I'll make a batch," she called back, and the end of it was swallowed in a yawn.

Ned yawned too, then climbed to his feet, padding into the kitchen in his socks. "You look as tired as I feel," he told her, when she protested. "Lemme help."

She went to the pantry for the lemonade mix while he took a pitcher from the top shelf, and she measured out the powder and dumped it into the pitcher before he began to fill it with water. Once the drink was mixed, they poured it over ice in two glasses and headed back to the living room, and Ned yawned again, tugging down the knot of his tie and slipping it off.

Nancy smiled. "Hard work, huh."

"Eh." He draped his arm across the back of the couch, and she took a sip of her lemonade before she sat back and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to wait up for you..."

"You did," he said, and pressed a kiss against the crown of her head. The scent of her shampoo was familiar, safe, and his heart skipped a beat. "I love you, Nan."

"Love you too," she murmured. "You had dinner?"

He had grabbed a deli sandwich on the way between work and class, and at the mention of food, his stomach growled a little. Nancy chuckled softly and patted his stomach, and that made him warm in response. "So no, then."

"Mmm. I'm too tired to eat," he admitted.

"Guess we should go to bed," she mumbled. "I'm too tired to move."

Ned yawned, and it was only a few minutes later that he realized he had drifted off. With a sigh, he roused Nancy; he was thirsty, and before they went upstairs he gulped down the rest of his lemonade. The cold made him a little more alert, but only for a few minutes. Once he reached the top of the stairs, it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other.

Nancy settled in his arms once he had set his alarm and she had set hers, in a tank top and panties, and he in his boxers. Once he felt the breathing warmth of her against his bare chest, he felt himself relax almost immediately. "Love you," he murmured.

"Love you," she whispered.

He had barely been able to sleep the night before; he had been anxious about his first day, hoping everything would go smoothly, that he would get it right. Now that it was over, he felt both relieved and exhausted, and glad that Nancy had been so supportive of his decision. He had looked forward to spending time with her too, and after that damn case with Frank had been tied up, it had felt like the time between, time they had been able to spend together, had passed in the blink of an eye. To just tumble into bed beside her and fall asleep felt like a waste, but he was so tired.

He didn't know what he dreamed, and when he jerked awake it took a moment for him to realize why. The slam of a car door outside had done it, probably a few houses down. Nancy made a soft noise, and a moment later she tossed back the covers and shuffled heavily away from the bed. Dawn hadn't yet come, not quite, and their bedroom was cast in blue shadow.

Once she returned from the bathroom, he took his turn there, and she was sprawled on her side of the bed when he returned, the covers tossed back, a strip of bare skin visible above the band of her low-slung panties. Her arm was over her eyes, and as he closed their bedroom door she turned onto her side, away from the window, and he slid back into their bed, his eyes closing again immediately.

He didn't know how, exactly, but it was familiar. When he woke again, Nancy's leg was slipped between his and the join of her thighs was pressed against his upper leg, and he was already aroused. He sighed and his fingertips bumped against her leg, then trailed up to the warm fabric of her panties; she made a soft noise, and the bedsprings creaked under her as she rolled onto her back. He felt the bed shift, heard her slip her underwear off, and he had just blinked his eyes open as he pushed his own underwear down too.

She rolled back over, straddling him, and the path of his fingertips was clumsy as he reached for the hem of her tank top, tugging it up. She bowed her head to help him, the join of her legs pressed against his erection, and when she was naked she kissed his shoulder, sighing as he cupped her ass in both hands.

"Mmm. I love you." Her voice was husky with sleep, her movements slow.

"Love you," he sighed in return, his abs tightening as she stroked herself against him.

Her body stayed pressed to his as she ground against him, her breath warm against his skin, the silken tips of her hair brushing against his cheek. He closed his eyes and let her keep control of it, his embrace loose and his hands against her back, moving with her as her hips angled and tilted. The first sound she made was a barely-audible sigh, then a gasp, and he felt her nipples drag against his chest, firm beneath the ponderous weight of her breasts. She brushed a kiss against his neck, and he opened his eyes again.

She hadn't been his first lover, but he had been hers; he had been Amy's first, too, but his relationship with Amy had been entirely different. He had thought that he loved Amy, and in a way he had, but it had been lust; it had been the awakening of it and the adoration in her eyes and the strange way that two people could meet for a moment and think that the universe had been created just to bring them together. Everything had felt profound and incredible. She had been sweet and both of them had been so inexperienced.

Ned's mother had told him, soon after his parents had sat him down and given him the official version of "the talk," that if he was a woman's first partner, he needed to remember that his partner was giving him something that she could give no one else. For a woman, being with someone else that way was more than just an act of intimacy, it was an act of trust. She might be nervous or afraid, and he needed to be gentle and slow with her, and to remember that if she changed her mind and didn't want to keep going, that what she wanted was more important than what he did. Love wasn't love when the other person was afraid or unwilling.

He had made love with other women, before and after Nancy, but if the universe had been created for anything so minute, it had been made for this, for _Nancy_. It had been made so he could meet her, so he could learn what it was to love someone so perfectly, so completely, to find the other half of himself and understand that if he wanted to, if she wanted to, they could be whole for the rest of their lives. It had been made so they could find each other again when they were ready, to fit back together more tightly than before, to share a life with each other.

He looked up at her, his crooked index finger brushing her hip as she rubbed her clit against the head of his cock, her teeth sunk into her lower lip and her lashes low, her face shadowed and the sunlight catching gold in her hair. He looked up at her and she moaned quietly and he knew it again, what he had known even as a teenager: that he would walk hot coals and broken glass for her, that he would lay down his life for her—but that what he had always wanted more than that, had craved, was knowing that with her, he was _better_. He wanted to be _better_ , and she didn't hold him back, she wanted to help him—and that, stubborn as she could be sometimes, she felt the same way about him, that they challenged each other, that together they grew. He didn't look forward to the rest of their life together with such wonder and joy because he thought they would be the same, but because he knew they wouldn't be, that the only constant would be this and the love he felt for her, so overwhelming and so terribly perfect that there were no words for it.

"Mmm," she moaned, and her lashes rose and she was looking into his eyes, and something about the softness and desire and _need_ he saw there made him melt in response. "Ned," she whispered, and her slick inner flesh was warm against his erection, and in that breath before she moved to angle his cock and mount him, a frisson of pure desire slid down his spine.

"Hey," he murmured, and they both groaned when she fitted him just inside her and began to slide down. She took it slow, deliciously slow, and he cupped her breast, brushing his thumb back and forth against her nipple. He held her gaze and he could see when her brow knit, when her lips parted in a gasp. She ground her hips against his, her cunt slippery wet and tight around him, and she pulsed, sobbing when he reached between them and brushed his fingertip against her clit.

It felt like they had only just started when Ned's alarm started going off, and Nancy groaned, her hips still undulating as he kept stroking her clit. He shifted on the bed to silence his phone, and when he collapsed back to the mattress she began to work against him in harder strokes, shivering in pleasure. Her alarm would likely go off in five minutes, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to finish by then or not. Keeping himself under control was getting harder, but the feel of her around him was incredible.

"Mmm," he murmured, his own breath catching when she tightened her inner muscles against him on her next stroke. "God, that's so good..."

"Don't stop," she whimpered, and she tipped forward, planting her palms over his shoulders and riding him hard. He kept stroking her clit, and she tipped her head back, releasing a series of louder sobs, desperation in her voice.

"Mmm... baby..."

A shiver went over her hips, and she gasped. "Yes yes _yessss_ ," she cried out, riding him faster, and when he pressed his thumb more firmly against her clit she let out a high-pitched squeal, then a low shivering groan that made his balls tighten in need. "Mmmm oh my God oh _yes_ ," she panted, and his hips rose at her next thrust, and when her phone began to alarm, he groaned loudly.

"God, you feel so good," he told her, and he saw her shoulders flex as she slid up and down his cock again, her hair in a tangle down her back. "Fuck, baby, so good. _Mmmm_."

She shuddered when she took his full length inside her. Her face was flushed, and she gasped and whimpered with every brush of his finger or thumb against her clit. "Oh my God oh my God I... oh my _God_..."

"Yeah," he growled. "You feel so sweet and tight, babe. I love you so much."

He felt her pulse around him again in response. "I love you," she moaned, and she pushed herself up, changing the angle of his penetration. He grasped her hips and rolled her over so he could grab her phone and silence it, and she writhed under him, crying out. Her spine was arched, and when he lowered himself to her, nuzzling against her neck and cheek, she folded her legs around him and shuddered, wrapping her arms around him too. His every thrust provoked another gasp, and soon she was rocking under him, sobbing in pleasure.

When he could no longer hold out anymore, he spent himself with a groan, and she screamed when he brushed against her clit immediately after, her body stiffening under his. She remained still as he collapsed to her, the points of her fingernails against his shoulder blades, panting for breath. He could feel the weak clench and release of her cunt against him, and he provoked another spasm when he dropped a soft lingering kiss against her shoulder.

He knew they had to get up, to take a shower and dress and head to work. He knew that. But he felt warm and satisfied and content to be in her arms, and when she ran her fingers through his hair, he nuzzled against her neck and she shivered under him.

"Happy first day of class," she murmured, then chuckled.

He laughed, too. "What a great way to start the day," he murmured, and groaned as he pushed himself up and slid out of her. "Let's go get cleaned up."

Nancy groaned as he climbed out of bed. "I don't know if I can move yet."

"Don't tempt me," he told her. "If I get back in that bed I know we'll both call in sick for the morning..."

She smiled, her eyes still closed. "And the downside is...?"

He chuckled, then scooped her up. Her eyes flew open, but she slid her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her to the bathroom.

\--

The next week, Ned returned to their townhouse after ten o'clock—and found it dark. Adjusting his bag on his shoulder, he reached for his phone and checked it for a message from his wife, but he didn't find anything, at least nothing from her. Mike and Jan were both dying to head to the lake again, and while Ned's longing for a few days away with his wife was almost a palpable ache in his chest, he wasn't sure if he would be able to find the time this weekend, not with all this homework. Still, the thought of Nancy in a string bikini, her flesh tanned and warm under his lips—it made him remember that gorgeous red dress, fitted tight to her curves, and how incredibly seductive she had been on that dance floor.

That weekend at the lake hadn't been the most significant one in their relationship, but he had taken a step with her then that he never had before, giving her a key to his apartment, telling her that what was between them was more serious than the casual relationship he had feared to break. Seeing her obvious jealousy around Jen, seeing the dismay on her face when she had talked about it, her admission that what was between them was more than what had been, that she had still been so afraid that he wouldn't be able to look past what she had done and how she had hurt him when she had walked out of his life... he had known that it was like running before they truly knew how to walk, but with her, anything less wouldn't have been enough.

He unlocked the door and walked into their house. The air was still and close; he had turned up the thermostat before he left for work, and now he turned it down again, sighing when he heard the unit start up. He knew she would complain if he didn't, so he went upstairs to strip out of his suit, leaving his undershirt on and putting on a pair of baggy cargo shorts she had threatened to burn more than once. He considered opening a beer, but he wanted to go ahead and start on his homework while the night's lesson was still fresh in his mind. It was the only way he'd have a prayer of going to the lake with his wife over the weekend, assuming she didn't have any work assignments.

He turned on the television, then checked his phone again, but didn't see any messages from her. With a sigh, he tapped the texting icon. _Hey honey, I'm home. Doing okay?_

By the time he heard her walking up the front steps, he was completely engrossed in his reading, glancing up every now and then to check out the game recaps. His feet were up on the coffee table, his laptop on his lap, the watered-down remains of his lemonade in a sweating glass. Her steps only registered once she was turning the key in the deadbolt, and he glanced up to see her smiling at him as she walked inside.

"Nan?"

"Hey," she said, but there was something wrong with her voice, the way she sounded. She sounded infinitely weary, and he heard a sigh at the edge. "I saw that you sent me a message but I didn't have a chance to get back to you. How was class?"

"Good," he replied, watching her wince as she shouldered her bag down to the recliner. "What's wrong?"

She glanced up at him, then shook her head, her lips curving up a little. He could see a tightness at the corner of her eyes, though. "Oh, nothing. It was..." She shook her head again. "I'll be okay. Some extra-strength pain reliever and some ice and I'll be good as new in the morning."

"Something happened tonight." It was barely a question.

She sighed and toed out of her shoes, and he noticed that her pumps were scuffed. All the fine details came into focus: the trace of dirt and smudge of oil on her right elbow, the mark under her chin that wasn't just a shadow but a crust of dried blood. His stomach sank, and he put his laptop to the side. "Nan..."

She sighed heavily again. "I'm fine," she said.

"So you're fine. What happened before you were fine?" He tried to make his tone as neutral as he could, but he crossed his arms halfway through it.

"I ran into a guy and he—well, he tripped me." Her cheeks were stained with a soft blush. "I fell hard and he took advantage of it, and—well, wherever he is, I think my heel got him a good one on the shin."

"But you're okay?" His voice was softer. "He didn't do anything?"

"Punched me hard in the chest a few times. Asshole," she added under her breath, as she walked into the kitchen. "Asshole. In a fair fight he would have been out early."

"You sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Urgent care?"

He heard her rummaging around in the kitchen, then ice cubes crashing into a plastic bag. "I just need some rest," she told him. "I'm going to be bruised up as shit, but I promise, if I still feel bad in the morning I'll go."

Ned sighed, but nodded as she returned to the living room and sat down beside him on the couch. "All right," he murmured.

"I didn't want to interrupt you," she told him. "Go ahead, honey."

He glanced down at his laptop, then over at her. "Okay," he murmured. "If you're sure you're all right."

"I will be."

She released a soft, almost inaudible groan as she rested her head against the other arm of the couch, and he knew she had to be feeling pretty bad if she didn't ask him to turn the channel on the television or to hand her the remote. Even so, knowing that he needed to concentrate on his homework, he turned it to a crime drama. She tucked her bare toes between him and the back of the couch, and as he considered what he was reading, he rested his hand against her lower leg and gently traced his fingertips back and forth over her calf. He knew she had fallen asleep when the bag of ice slid onto the couch beside her.

He glanced at the clock a few minutes later and groaned. He was going to be useless in the morning if he didn't get to bed. With a sigh he saved his work and closed his laptop, then patted Nancy's leg.

"Babe... gotta get to bed."

She released a low, almost rusty groan, and when she shifted onto her side, she coughed. "Mmm. 'Kay."

"Here. I'll get you some more ice. Did you take any pain pills?"

"Yeah." She coughed again, sitting up, and paused for a moment before she pushed herself up off the couch. Ned took the bag to the kitchen to dump out the ice and refresh it, sighing in pleasure as he opened the freezer. He heard her coughing again, and then she made a low, terrible sound, and he came back into the living room area with the bag of new ice still open, just in time to see her fall at the foot of the staircase, a pink froth of aerated blood on her lips.

\--

" _Nancy!_ "

Everything fragmented then, in the face of his panic and horror. He dropped the bag of ice, but he had no conscious memory of doing it; only the open bag on the floor, a small pool of melted ice still inside, remained later. He crossed the room to her so quickly that his hip hit the edge of the couch, but he didn't feel it. His gaze was locked on her, on the sight of her sprawled, limp limbs and lowered lashes. She looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He called her name again, but she didn't stir, didn't answer.

Ned scrambled for his phone, moving just as quickly back to her, although he felt like he was in a nightmare, like he was moving at quarter-speed. He felt sick as he waited for the call to emergency services to connect, and wiped the blood from her lips, then leaned down so his ear was over her mouth. Over the panicked thumping of his heart he could hear her breathing, but he also heard a kind of wet rattle in her chest, and she seemed to be having trouble drawing in air.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"My wife—she collapsed, she's coughing up blood, she's having trouble breathing... Nancy, baby, please wake up. Please."

"She's lost consciousness?"

Holding a coherent conversation was almost impossible, and later he didn't remember half of what he said to the dispatcher. All he knew was that it felt like a nightmare, and he was terrified. Their home wasn't far from the hospital, and the entire time he waited for the ambulance to arrive, he kept checking her breathing, incredibly afraid that she was going to die right in front of him. He felt powerless, and if he had thought it would do any good, he would have carried her out to his car and driven her straight to the hospital himself—but if she needed artificial respiration on the way, he couldn't have provided it.

He wanted to cradle her, to hold her, but he was afraid that he would hurt her if he moved her. Impatiently he blinked a pair of tears down his cheeks as he gently rested a hand on her chest, feeling it barely rise and fall.

"It's gonna be okay," he told her, touching her cheek. His voice was shaking. "It's gonna be okay. Just wake up. I'm gonna take you to the hospital and you're gonna be okay. Shh." When another bubble of blood appeared on her lips, he brushed it away, his chest so tight he was sure he could feel his heart breaking.

When the ambulance arrived and the EMTs came in, Ned wanted to scream at them for taking their time, but soon she was loaded up on a stretcher and taken out to the truck. She hadn't come around since losing consciousness, and Ned had been sure that she would blink herself awake, tell him he was overreacting, and have to be cajoled into going to the immediate care center—but he had had every intention of taking her there. Ned followed them in his car; while he had felt exhausted just ten minutes before, now he felt thoroughly wired, jittery with adrenaline. He called Nancy's father first, and as soon as he found out the name of the hospital, he said he was on the way, his voice taut with anxiety. Ned called his parents next; his aunt had had rotator cuff surgery, and so his mother was staying with her sister for a while, helping her out, but his father answered the phone. Ned explained what had happened, and when his father asked if it had seemed serious, Ned choked up and didn't know how to answer. He was so afraid to say that it did.

Once the ambulance pulled in at the hospital, Ned went to the closest lot to find a space, cursing himself a thousand times. While he had been on the phone, at least that had served as some distraction; now, though, he was plagued by guilt. He should have insisted that she get herself checked out instead of just taking her word that she was okay. He should have known... but he hadn't, and now it was too late.

She had to be okay. She _had_ to.

Ned locked his car and forced himself to walk into the emergency department instead of running; he didn't want a security guard to tackle him. He was halfway through filling out the intake paperwork—he had memorized Nancy's insurance policy information a long time ago—when Carson walked briskly into the emergency department.

"Carson!" Ned called, waving his hand. His father-in-law's salt-and-pepper hair was a little disheveled, and a camel-colored windbreaker hung open over his chest as he strode toward Ned. The sight of it, of Nancy's father rushing toward him, anxious, dismay clear on his face, brought back the memory of a dozen, twenty, thirty other nights that had been spent the same way: waiting in other hard plastic chairs as Nancy was checked for concussions or broken bones or sprains, poisoned or otherwise unwell. Carson or Hannah, sometimes both of them, had been there for some of those times too, just as nervous as he had been, and Bess and George too most of the time. They had bonded then, each time fruitlessly hoping that this would be the last. Sometimes they had prayed that Nancy would live long enough, that she would emerge strong enough, to even find herself in such a dangerous situation again.

"What happened?"

Ned shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. No one's talked to me since we came in. She collapsed, and she was coughing up blood, I think..."

Carson drew a sharp breath. "Had she been hurt today?"

"She said she was in a fight with a guy, and he punched her in the chest, and she fell down..."

Carson rose immediately and went to the nurse's station, his stride purposeful, the lines of his face hard as granite. Ned watched him for a few seconds, then went back to filling out the form. He didn't like how pointed Carson's questions had been, that he apparently knew what might be going on—but he hadn't really liked anything that had happened tonight.

When Carson returned, he hadn't relaxed. "They don't know anything, but they never do," he said, his jaw set and eyes flashing.

"What? What happened?"

Carson sighed and took a seat beside Ned. "When Nan was shot and they operated on her, they were afraid she was going to die—the blood loss, the shock, everything else. The surgeon said that some of the shrapnel, the remaining pieces of one of the bullets, was inoperable. They couldn't get to it; it was too risky. They were hoping that the scar tissue would keep it from—well, from what it's probably doing now. He told me that if the shrapnel was dislodged, it would likely damage her lungs, and if she was coughing up blood..."

Ned paled. "I didn't know," he said quietly.

Carson gave him a wan, humorless smile. "It's all right."

"No, I wish—if I'd known..." He shook his head.

"You said you called for an ambulance as soon as she collapsed. Was she coughing up blood before that?"

Ned shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "No. She coughed a few times... she told me she was all right..."

"It's all right. I know how she is. She always thinks it's not bad. You did the right thing. Don't beat yourself up about it."

All they could do was wait, and several times Ned almost lost his patience and caused a scene, but Carson's presence was enough to make him reconsider. He paced, he contacted Bess and George to let them know what had happened, and for a while their messages and calls were enough to distract him.

But the longer they waited, the worse he felt; his imagination, already on overdrive, conjured up images of Nancy, bloodied and sedated, on an operating table, surgeons working frantically to save her while her life slipped through their fingers.

He couldn't lose her. Not now, not like this. They had only been married for a year, and they had their whole lives ahead of them, their plans to have a child together and start a family...

He needed to see her. He needed her to be okay. Nothing else mattered as much to him.

When his phone rang, Ned almost jumped out of his skin, he was so anxious for any news about her condition. "Hello?"

"Ned—your father called. What's going on?"

"I didn't mean for him to—to bother you..."

"He said you took Nancy to the hospital?"

Filling his mother in after everything else made Ned heartsick, but once he reported that he didn't know what her condition was, his mother's next words didn't surprise him. "I'm going to start back right away. Sharon was planning to come check on Barb tomorrow anyway—"

"Mom, you don't have to..."

"I know," she said, when Ned trailed off, unable to speak. If the worst happened, he didn't know what he would do. Nothing would help. "I know I don't. I'm going to anyway. I'll just come home, and if you need me, I'll be that much closer. Call me back when they let you know how she's doing, all right?"

"I will," Ned promised. "Thanks."

His mother paused. "She's going to be okay," she said. "She's strong. She'll be all right. I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

Ned hung up, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to keep himself under control. Carson patted his shoulder a few times, but Ned knew that no matter how he was feeling, Nancy's father had to be feeling just as bad—and, despite his reassurance, second-guessing everything. Just as Ned was.

Finally, a nurse stood up. "Next of kin for Nancy Nickerson?"

Ned stood up, and Carson stood up at almost the same time.

The nurse took them to a smaller room, and a few minutes later a man walked in wearing scrubs. "You're here for Nancy Nickerson?"

Ned nodded. "I'm her husband—Ned. This is her father, Carson."

The doctor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sat down on a padded rolling stool, gesturing for them to sit down too. "Nancy sustained some serious injuries. Was there a domestic disturbance?"

Ned shook his head. "She's a private investigator, and she was on the job tonight; she ran into a guy who beat her up. She might have filed a police report, or a report with her employer. I'm not sure. What's your name?"

The doctor studied him for a moment, then shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose again. "I'm sorry. It's been a long night already. Dr. Leon. We recovered shrapnel—but it seems you were already aware. It's a good thing she was brought in as quickly as she was."

"Is she okay now? Is she awake?"

Ned didn't mean to monopolize the conversation, and he could feel Carson almost vibrating with impatience beside him, but he couldn't help it.

"She's stabilized, but she's not awake; she's resting now. She's just had major surgery. We'll be transferring her to the TICU, the Thoracic Intermediate Care Unit, once she's out of recovery."

"So she'll need to stay here," Carson said. "For about a week?"

Ned turned to him, dismayed, but the doctor nodded. "Probably about six days, depending on her recovery. She can leave the day after her chest tube is removed."

"Chest tube? Is she—is she on machines?" Ned's fist clenched on his knee.

"She will have several lines and tubes in place, to keep her lung expanded and to drain fluid, to make sure her blood pressure is up, to provide oxygen and replenish the fluids she lost during surgery. But she's been through this before."

Carson nodded. "It'll be a shock, the first time you see her," he told Ned quietly. From the expression on his face, Ned wondered for a moment about _his_ nightmares, what he saw when he let himself remember. Ned had only known about the injury and the recovery, not the immediate aftermath, not that terrifying time when they hadn't been sure whether she would pull through. "She'll be wearing an oxygen mask."

"Did you assist her in the physical therapy after her initial injury?" the doctor asked.

Carson nodded again. "Hannah and I did. The shoulder exercises and all of it," he said.

"So is there anything left in her lung that might—do this, again?" Ned asked.

Dr. Leon shook his head. "From the scans, no. She healed well from the first surgery; there's no reason to think that this time will be any different. If her job is physically demanding, and it sounds like it is, she will need to take several weeks off. She won't be able to drive or operate heavy machinery while she's on her pain medication."

Carson seemed to be perfectly at ease with the discussion. Ned still felt blindsided. He didn't know what he was thinking, but it hadn't been this. A few hours ago, he had been thinking about trying to cajole her into going to the lake house with him over the weekend. Now, she was going to be in the hospital instead.

But she was alive.

He didn't relax, not yet, not completely, and he wouldn't until he saw her awake again, but the agonizing tension in his stomach loosened a little.

\--

When Nancy woke, she felt a moment of panic. It was like before, like when she had opened her eyes and found herself in the hospital, the lines in her arms, the oxygen, the need to cough, but there had been such incredible pain... and for a few awful seconds, she was terrified by the idea that the interval between had only been a dream. She was back in that awful time after the shooting, when she had felt so alone, so terribly depressed and hopeless.

Then she saw them, Ned and Ned's mother and Hannah and her father, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Hannah said, and Nancy could feel Hannah gently squeezing her hand. "It's okay, honey. You're okay."

She looked at each of them, back and forth again, and felt Ned gently brush his fingertips over her other arm. She was panting, and she couldn't remember—she started coughing, and blinked a pair of tears down her cheeks. Ned immediately blanched, half-rising in alarm.

A tired-looking nurse in scrubs came over and moved her to help her cough, and that at least was familiar. Once she had calmed down a little, she reached for their hands again. Ned had settled again, but he was still tense.

"It was from earlier, wasn't it," Nancy said slowly, afraid to set off another coughing fit; her voice sounded almost rusty. She remembered that she would need to cough, but the panic that she might tear her stitches or injure herself again if she did still lingered, especially when she was feeling so disoriented.

Her father nodded. "The shrapnel," he said. "But you're all right. You're going to be okay."

"I'm so glad you're all right," Ned told her, and at the expression on his handsome face, Nancy felt reflexive tears rise in her eyes again. She squeezed his hand, and he gently touched her cheek. "You scared the hell out of me, baby, and I'm so glad you're okay."

The following days—oh, she had forgotten how it had been, and she had been grateful to forget it: waking from a hard-won sleep just so a nurse could "tap" on her back and loosen the secretions in her lungs, being exhausted after a short walk while on her oxygen, the seemingly constant x-rays and checkups, the exercises on her shoulder to make sure it didn't tighten up. The morning after her surgery, a balloon bouquet tied to a stuffed gorilla and a bouquet of flowers had appeared on the table beside her bed, and soon those were joined by other presents and cards. Ned and her father and Hannah and Edith visited every day, Terry and George visited, Bess sent a "feel better soon" card, and her father-in-law came by to see her several times too.

Nancy was feeling groggy from sleep deprivation when a nurse woke her three days into her stay, and she saw Hannah in the chair beside the bed, placidly knitting. "Hey," Nancy said, her voice weak. "You should—have woke me up."

Hannah shook her head, then met Nancy's eyes. "Never. I know how little they let you sleep here."

"And you're doing really well," the nurse told her. This one wore scrubs patterned with small cartoon cats chasing balls of yarn, her bangs blunt-cut across her forehead. "You're making great progress. And dinner's coming up soon. I'm sure you're hungry."

She wasn't, not really, and once the nurse had finished with the therapy, Nancy was exhausted. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Nan, it's all right. Truly. I'm just glad that they were finally able to pull all that shrapnel out."

"And you're okay with—being here..."

Hannah smiled at her. "I'm glad that I'm able to be here," she replied, touching Nancy's hand. "So Ned doesn't have to take time off work, because he would, gladly. He'd sleep here with you, if they'd let him. Between the three of us, we'll be waiting on you hand and foot."

"And Dad?" Nancy coughed again, then sighed once the fit passed.

She smiled. "I was able to put together some meals for him to reheat yesterday. And then I'll just have to get him to come over while we're taking our walks, after he's home for the day, so he can visit with you and get some exercise in. Edith has already told me that she'll be happy to come over and help too."

Ned came in soon after Nancy had forced a few mouthfuls of her dinner down, and was debating whether she should try any more. She never really felt hungry in the hospital, not while she was on so much pain medication; she generally felt loopy and nauseated, not hungry. Ned gave Hannah a pat on the shoulder before settling in the chair on the other side of Nancy's bed, and when he reached for her hand, she squeezed his.

"Did you talk to Trent?"

Ned nodded. "Yep. He says once you feel up to it, he'll let you work from home—but not before. Then he said something about LKAs."

Nancy groaned. "My favorite," she sighed, her eyes closing. "Ugh."

Ned stroked his thumb against the back of her hand, and after a few breaths she opened her eyes again. "Thanks," she told him. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I know how stir-crazy you get."

It was a relief, to not be on the oxygen all the time. It was a relief to be alive, and she felt it again every time she looked into his eyes.

Soon after, Hannah said goodnight and kissed Nancy goodbye before she left, and Ned scooted closer to the bed. Nancy wanted so badly to just cuddle up with him and sleep, to breathe in the scent of him and feel a little closer to home, but he couldn't be in bed with her. Instead he looped his arm over her, and when she could, he rested his head near hers on the bed and she rested her cheek against him.

"I miss you," she murmured. "It's so hard to sleep without you."

"I miss you too," he told her, gently stroking her side. Every touch was gentle and light. He had always hated the idea of hurting her. "But I'll be able to spend all day tomorrow here with you, if you want."

"Only if you bring your laptop and get some work done," she told him, and reached up to gently stroke his arm. "I won't have you falling behind in your homework, Ned."

"Yes ma'am," he said, and they both chuckled—but that set off one of her coughing fits. He sat up and watched her until she had calmed down again. "I'll be so glad when you're home, sweetheart. I want you to rest and get better, so we can curl up together on the couch and watch TV..."

She gave him a weak smile. "It'll take a while before I'm back to normal," she told him.

"I know. Carson and Hannah told me." He stroked her cheek, gazing into her eyes.

She cupped his hand, then felt her eyes stinging with tears. "You had a nightmare, didn't you," she whispered.

He gave her a small, humorless smile that was all the answer she needed. "I would have driven here last night and insisted they let me in, if I hadn't thought it would do you more harm than good, to interrupt your sleep."

She shook her head. "Just text me," she murmured. "And I'll text you back when I see it. When I woke up here... I thought that... that maybe it had all been a dream, that I was waking up with that bullet wound still fresh in my chest..."

He leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. "It's gonna be okay," he murmured. "You'll be home soon and it'll be okay. I love you, baby."

"And I love you," she whispered.

As he had promised, Ned came to stay with her the next day at the hospital. The nurse who helped Nancy with her walking and shoulder exercises took advantage of it, and had Ned sit at the end of the hallway; knowing that he was waiting for her there made Nancy push a little harder with her walker, and when she reached him, he was already standing. He gave her a long hug, kissing her neck.

"You're going to be fine, baby," he whispered against her skin. "I'm so proud of you. You're doing so well."

She hated that she wasn't able to spend more time talking to him, but just knowing he was there helped. When she woke from naps, when she returned from her chest X-rays, he was beside the bed on his laptop. While he was reading his class assignments, he held her hand, stroking his thumb against her skin, and she often fell asleep that way.

She would have given anything to have him by her side, before. Just seeing him made her feel better.

The first time she and her father had been alone, he had asked if she was all right, really _truly_ all right. When she had been recovering from the shooting the first time, Nancy had been so, so incredibly depressed, afraid it was a sign that she could no longer be what she had loved for so long, away from Bess and George and Ned, who had been her three best friends in the world until she had pushed them away. She hadn't wanted to live. She hadn't wanted to fight anymore.

Now she knew there would be light at the other end, that she would go home to her husband and he and Hannah and her father and Edith, and her friends, would help her, care for her, wouldn't give up on her or grow impatient with her and her temporary helplessness.

On Saturday night, after dinner had been served—Ned had gone out for his own dinner, and had brought her back a small milkshake as a treat—visiting hours were over, and as much as she missed Ned, Nancy was exhausted. She had kept herself awake to talk to him, and he had told her about what he was reading for his class, about his plans to take her out to the lake house once she was feeling up to it, and he told her he would happily lounge beside her on the shore, or put her in one of the small boats and row her around if she didn't want to swim. She fell asleep lulled by the sound of his voice, deep and hushed, tender—she had never heard him speak that way to anyone other than her. When she woke sometimes he was gazing at her, and in those moments she saw the fine lines, the signs of exhaustion, an almost grim set to his mouth. She recognized it from those rarer nights when he woke up from the old nightmare, recognized it as the same ghost that lived behind her eyes sometimes.

She had been half of herself for a while, sometimes less. When he looked into her eyes, when he returned her smile, they were both whole again.

The nurse's admonition that visiting hours were ended had barely faded behind her, punctuated by her shoe soles scraping against the floor, when Ned closed his laptop and slotted it back into his bag. He sat back, though, gazing at Nancy, and she couldn't help reaching for him.

"Get some rest," she told him quietly. "Go see your parents for lunch. And if your mom happens to have any of that chicken salad she makes, see if you can bring me a little."

"You have a craving, honey?" He smiled and gently stroked her cheek.

She nodded. "Don't wear yourself out," she murmured. "It's your weekend. I know you need some time to recharge."

He studied her eyes. "So do you," he murmured. "I'll come by and see you tomorrow afternoon. If you think of anything else you want, just let me know. I'd be happy to get it for you."

She coughed before she reached up for him, and he leaned down and rested his forehead gently against hers for a moment. "I love you, Nan," he whispered. "You know if you were here for a year I'd be here every day. But I know you need to rest."

"Mmm," she murmured, cupping his cheek. "I love you too, baby. I'm feeling better—and if they take the tube out tomorrow, soon I'll be home again. Go get some rest, sweetie."

"I won't really be able to rest until you're home with me again," he whispered, and brushed a kiss against her lips. When they heard the nurse approaching again, he kissed her one more time, then straightened.

"Sleep well, honey. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded, squeezing her hand, and his hand lingered on hers for a long moment before he released her. "Love you."

Despite her exhaustion, once Ned had left for the night and the nurse had turned off the lights for her, Nancy gazed at the television set and ached with loneliness, with frustration and impatience. Her sleep was fitful, and every time she woke, the blue-white glare of the television was shining down on her, keeping sentinel.

When Nancy returned from her X-ray scan the next morning, she heard a nurse's quiet voice, and then Trent and Jules came in. Trent was dressed well; Jules was dressed like she had just tumbled out of a hipster's bed, finger-combed her hair and shimmied into her skinny jeans, and was sucking intently on the straw in an iced coffee like it alone was keeping her alive. Nancy saw the dismay on Trent's face before he was able to hide it with a smile. Trent never enjoyed seeing any of his operatives this way, and Nancy knew she probably looked like an unholy mess. She didn't know when her hair had last been truly washed.

"How are you feeling?" Trent asked, coming over to the bed. "I talked to Ned..."

Nancy nodded. "I'm getting better," she told him, and smiled. "Be back on my feet in no time."

"Take your time," Trent said sternly. "I've read over your report a dozen times—"

"There was no way to know," she said, and coughed. Both Trent and Jules's eyes grew wide in alarm, and when the nurse came in, they seemed to get even more anxious.

Once she had her breath back, she looked between them. Jules carried a small stuffed smiley face with arms and legs attached, which she propped up near the bouquets and potted flowers Nancy had received. "I had no idea that what he did was serious," she tried again.

Trent shook his head. "It's in the past now," he said. "Just concentrate on getting better. And I'll even give you a week before I'll start sending you LKAs."

Nancy smiled. "That's kind of you."

Mel and Bess had each sent her a short feel-better-soon video, since they wouldn't be able to see her in person; George and Mike and Howie came by to visit her, and Carson, and her in-laws, and Terry. Jan sent her love with Mike, and her wishes for Nancy to feel better soon. Nancy couldn't help recognizing the muted panic in the eyes of her visitors, and when they said, uneasily, that they were sure she wanted to get some rest so she could be home soon, she let them go. The discomfort and restlessness she felt didn't really help. She wanted to be home and recovering and to just feel better, but she was still aching and miserable thanks to her surgery.

On the day she was finally released from the hospital, Hannah and her father came to pick her up and take her home—but their destination was the townhouse she and Ned shared, not their home in River Heights. Ned had left the hospital a little earlier than usual the night before, and Nancy saw why when she stepped inside. Everything was straightened up, she didn't even see any of Ned's shoes on the stairs, and the coffee table sported a pale blue runner with a vase of roses in the middle—probably thanks to Edith, who was just crossing the threshold into the living room, smiling at her. Ned had even opened the door for them.

"Baby! What are you doing home?"

He smiled and gave her a hug, kissing her on the cheek. "I wanted to be here to welcome you," he said. "I can't stay for too long, but I'm just so glad you're here."

"And you cleaned," she said with a smile, casting a glance at him. "Or you talked your poor mom into doing it."

"What do you mean? I just kept everything as spotless as you left it," he told her with a wink, ushering Hannah and Carson inside before he closed the door. "I mean, someone _might_ have put a roast in the slow cooker for lunch..."

Hannah and Edith had been hard at work too, Nancy discovered. They had loaded the refrigerator with easy to reheat meals and quick meal ingredients, and Nancy even saw Hannah's familiar overnight bag and project bag, usually full of knitting or crochet supplies. The five of them ate roast beef with Hannah's potato salad, but Ned had to leave all too soon. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her gently on the temple, and Nancy looked up into his dark eyes when he pulled back.

"You're home," he whispered.

She nodded, cupping his cheek. "And I'll be here when you get back," she told him with a smile. "Go work hard, baby. I'm sure Hannah and your mom will make sure we're well-fed tonight."

Carson grinned. "And I'll even promise to head home after dessert," he said, crossing his heart. "But I need to get back to the office, too. Much as I hate to leave." He stood, then came over to give Nancy a gentle hug.

She didn't mean to, but she was exhausted and she was finally _home_ , and she slept for most of the afternoon. She heard the washing machine running once when she stirred, and Hannah helped her walk to the bathroom, and that trip left her completely wiped out.

She woke up for her next dose of pain medication, and Hannah gave her a smile. "I think Ned and your dad will be home soon. Edith left a little while ago to cook dinner at her house. You up to taking a shower?"

Nancy groaned after she swallowed her pills. "Mmm. It'll be nice to be clean again."

She was expecting the rainbow-bruised skin on her torso, she had even seen it a few times when she was undressed, but she couldn't help wincing. She remembered Hannah helping her before, but at least this time was easier; at least she wasn't recovering from the trauma of the shooting and everything that had happened in the months before it. At the end of the shower, though, she was exhausted and leaning heavily on the railing and Hannah's arm to get downstairs.

Hannah chuckled a little as she helped Nancy ease back onto the couch. "What is it?" Nancy asked, her voice weary as she shifted.

"Apparently a lot of your friends wanted to throw you a welcome-home party," Hannah told her. "Ned mentioned it to me, but he said he thought you would probably be really tired and not ready for something like that so soon. I told him he was right, but I thought it was very sweet, that maybe it should just be rescheduled."

Nancy looked up into Hannah's eyes and felt tears welling up in her own. Hannah remembered how it had been just as well as Nancy did. No one else had been around, just Hannah and her father, and while a few of the people she knew had asked about her health and recovery, Nancy had been too depressed and upset to talk to anyone else. To her, it had felt like no one cared, like all her bridges were ash. Even letting Ned know she had been hurt but was okay had been a massive struggle.

"Shh," Hannah said, sitting down beside her and wrapping her arm around her, and rubbing her upper arm in comforting strokes as a pair of tears streaked down Nancy's cheeks. "Hush, Nan, it's okay. It's okay. I'm just so glad to see how much he cares about you."

Hannah and her father would never know just how much Ned cared about her, or what he had done to the man who had hurt her. They would never know about what had happened with Jamie, either; just the thought of it made Nancy flush hot. She took a deep breath, trying to force the aching lump of tears back down. "He's great," she told Hannah, and sniffled as she wiped her wet face. "I don't think there's a sweeter guy in the world."

Because the weather was still nice, Hannah lit some bug-repelling candles and they ate dinner on the back patio. Nancy moved carefully down the back stairs, and her father and Ned both waited on her, bringing the pitcher of lemonade out to refill her drink when she needed it, serving her plate when a dish was too far away for her to easily reach. They feasted on chicken alfredo lasagna and salad, and Hannah had made strawberry shortbread cookies for dessert. Carson asked Nancy how she was feeling, and when she admitted she was mostly just exhausted, Ned rose and offered to help her inside while Carson cleared the table.

Nancy nodded off in the armchair. When she woke, the television was tuned to sports and Ned was sitting on the other couch, folding clothes. The kitchen light was off, and she heard the dishwasher running. She stretched, then hissed as the movement strained her side, and Ned turned toward her.

"Did they go home?"

"Yeah. They didn't want to wake you up. Hannah said she'd be here in the morning, and to call if you needed anything. Mom called to check on you, too, and she said she would come by tomorrow. And I think they decided to feed us for the next two weeks, based on what's in the refrigerator and freezer."

Nancy smiled faintly. "I would've gained fifteen pounds if I had eaten everything Hannah tried to feed me, the first time."

Ned smiled, too. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sore and exhausted and I want to sleep and I _don't_ want to sleep, and I know I'm gonna get stir-crazy... but I'm okay." She shifted in the chair. "Hannah told me... that you wanted to keep today low-key?"

Ned's lips quirked up again, as he rolled a pair of socks. "Oh, she did? I mean... I really liked the idea of having a little party for you tonight, a banner and balloons everywhere and probably drinking... but I thought you might still be feeling shitty, and the worst kind of party is the kind you can't really join in on."

"That's true," she said, gazing at him.

"So I said we'd do it when you were feeling up to it. If that's okay."

"It's very okay," she told him. "Baby, thank you. For everything."

He ducked his head, then glanced up at her again. "You're my wife," he said softly. "I'd do anything for you. And as terrible as this is, I guess it's like a chance for me to show you... to be here for you now, when I wasn't before."

Nancy sniffled, then slowly began to push herself up, out of the armchair. Ned came over to help her, his concerned gaze warm on her face. She sat down on the middle seat of the couch and swept her hair out of her face, her eyes shimmering.

"I'd never go back there," she told him. "But everything's different now. And I don't blame you for not being around then."

He looked down. "I was so scared," he whispered. "When I saw you on the floor... I _hate_ those nightmares, but that was a thousand times worse. I was wide awake and I was so scared you were going to die. That it was coming true."

She pushed herself up, and slowly, gingerly, she moved onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. He embraced her too, his grip on her light but firm, and she pressed her face against his neck. She had wanted this while she had been restless and spent in her hospital bed, and if Ned had been there for her before, if he had come to her and been there for her...

Nancy sniffled, blinking as tears rose in her eyes. Ned pressed his face against her shoulder and kissed the side of her neck, and she felt his eyelashes brush against her skin. "Please don't leave me," he whispered. "Please, Nan."

"Ned," she whispered, holding him tighter. "I love you so much. I thought you'd never love me again..."

He drew in a deep breath and let it out and she felt him tremble faintly against her. When she felt a teardrop fall against her shoulder, she squeezed her eyes tight shut and sniffled again. She had felt so alone, before.

They held each other and she stroked his hair, breathing him in, just savoring the feel of him against her, his warmth and the rise and fall of his breath, his lips against her skin. Her heart had broken for want of him. When she imagined how she would have felt if he had been the one who had collapsed to the floor, she couldn't help it; she began to sob, and it was like a terrible tightness in her chest. They hadn't had enough time together. They would never have enough time together, never.

"Never leave me," she whispered, her voice shaking too.

She hadn't let herself feel the pain, not like this. In the hospital, there had been so much to concentrate on, to fill her time. She had to put on a brave face for Hannah and her father and her visitors, for the nurses, for the doctors who just kept reassuring her that she would be all right again, that the surgery had gone well—but they had cut her open again, they had dug through her to find those last few scraps of metal before they could tear through her lungs or claw through her heart. For just a small thing, her life had almost ended, again. For just a minor job.

But those last few scraps had been there for years, waiting, a promise of death sealed beneath her flesh. That well-timed punch had just been the last link in a chain that had been forged years before. But it still would have ended the same way, if not for Ned. Bleeding out under the Hardys' panicked, fluttering fingers, or on a hospital operating table.

_Is it over? Will it ever be over?_

She was so tired, and she knew it would be better—but she felt heartsick and spent, all her strength gone, and she was finally with Ned again. It would be okay, as long as they were together. It would be okay. For tonight, though, she had the space to let it out.

She didn't know how long they clung together, wrapped around each other. She didn't care. He stroked the line of her spine, her shoulder blades, her hair. He pressed gentle kisses against her jawline and neck. He cried, too, just as she did, and she had seen it in his eyes over the past week, but he had tried so hard to be strong for her.

When it was finally time for them to go to bed, he carried her up the stairs and helped her in the bathroom when she was too stiff to bend over. They brushed their teeth and washed their faces, and she took her last dose of pain medication for the day before she went to bed with him.

God, she had hated sleeping when she had just been home from the hospital; it was uncomfortable to put pressure on the wound left from the chest tube, and she had lain awake, miserable and depressed, unable to rest. She moved slowly, testing her soreness, hoping that her medication would take the pain down to a tolerable level soon; she hissed, wincing when she found a bad position. Eventually they discovered that she felt best when she was on her side, cradled against Ned's side, and he looped his arm around her, holding her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"I fought for you," she whispered, her voice a little slurred from exhaustion. "If you hadn't been here..."

"I'll always be here for you," he told her, and kissed the crown of her head. "Always. I'm sorry you're hurting, but I'm so glad you're gonna be okay. I'm so glad you're here with me."

"I love you."

"I love you." He kissed her again, his hand moving in a gentle stroke against her back. She carefully drew a long, deep breath, and felt herself begin to drift off to sleep.

\--

In the morning, Ned rose earlier than usual, drew her a glass of water so she could take her medication, and made her breakfast. He brought her a tray with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast with jam, and a glass of orange juice. Nancy was just getting over a coughing fit when Ned came in with the tray, and he rushed over to her, his eyes wide. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, still unable to speak, and fell back against the headboard with a rattling sigh. "Yeah. Hannah'll help when she gets here," she told him.

"Maybe I can get her to show me what to do tonight."

Ned was in a hurry, so he ate his breakfast much faster than she did, took his shower and dressed, all while she was still eating. He came over to her when he was ready to leave and cupped her cheek, kissing her forehead.

She looked up at him. He looked every inch the confident, handsome executive; his shoes were shined, his tie perfectly knotted, his suit unwrinkled. But she saw the softness in his eyes and felt the tenderness in the stroke of his fingertips against her skin, and she smiled. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too, baby." He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. "Have a good day. Let me know if you need anything."

Nancy smiled and nodded. "Between you and my father and your mom and Hannah, I feel like some invalid princess," she told him.

"Who will be running around catching bad guys again soon."

Once Ned was gone, Nancy considered leaving the bed, but she was comfortable and she hadn't had any coffee, so it was easy to fall asleep again. She heard the door downstairs close and her eyes slowly opened again. Thirty minutes had passed, and she hadn't even felt it. She had finished most of her breakfast, but the discarded tray was on Ned's side of the unmade bed.

"Nancy!" Hannah called. "You must be upstairs. I'll be there in a minute."

Nancy ran a hand over her hair, pushing herself up again. She felt groggy and slow, and considered calling down to Hannah to suggest coffee, but another coughing fit hit her when she even thought about shouting.

Hannah came up the stairs and opened the bedroom door a minute later. "Oh, so you've had breakfast," she said with a smile. "And your morning meds?"

Nancy nodded obediently.

Hannah and her father really had been the only reason she had made it through her first recovery without losing her mind. Hannah was relentlessly cheerful, and she stuck to the program that had been given to Nancy in her discharge notes, about exercising her shoulder, going for short walks to build up her stamina, coughing and doing deep breathing exercises, taking care of the wounds on her chest. She let her rest and relax, and she talked to her when she was awake. After Hannah and her father had seen how depressed and sad Nancy was, during her first recovery, that was when she had begun seeing the therapist.

Soon after Nancy had brushed her teeth and washed her face with Hannah's help, after a bout of coughing that left her sore but a little more clear-headed, Hannah helped her downstairs. They settled on the couch to watch a few morning shows, and Edith called to see how she was doing, promising that she would come by to see her for a while that afternoon. Then Nancy saw a few new messages from her friends, and took a while to respond to them, typing slowly and trying not to become too frustrated with herself. She tired easily while she was recovering, and she was already impatient.

Her father came by a little before lunchtime, and Nancy suggested that they go ahead and take a walk before the day's heat became stifling, while Hannah worked on preparing lunch. With a little help, soon Nancy made it to the front steps in walking shoes, yoga pants and a tank top. An Emerson ballcap shaded her face from the sun.

"All right. Seven minutes out and seven minutes back," her father said, reaching for Nancy's hand and tucking it through his arm. He had left his suit jacket inside and rolled up his sleeves; thankfully, the day wasn't blistering hot. "Good thing you live in a cul-de-sac. Feeling all right?"

Nancy nodded. "But I'm dying for a cup of coffee."

"Then that'll be your reward when we get back," he said with a smile. "Everything go okay last night? You were asleep on the couch when I left."

"Yeah. Ned even folded clothes," Nancy said, chuckling a little.

"Very impressive," her father said. "Mmm. I'm glad the weather's not so hot yet."

"Me too. So you must not have a full calendar today?"

"Not today. We're gearing up for a trial starting next week, but I really wanted to see you. Make sure my favorite girl in the world is doing okay." He didn't say anything for a moment. "Are you all right?"

Nancy glanced over at her father. "Yeah," she said. "I'm okay. It's not like it was last time."

"I can see that," he said. "I think you'd mentioned that you were going to see the therapist..."

Nancy nodded and swallowed the lump that was trying to rise in her throat. "Yeah, for a few months now," she said. Ned had called to explain her injury and recovery; as painful as the sessions sometimes were, it would be good to go back again, to talk about how terribly familiar all this was—and how much better she had found it this time around.

"If it's helping you, I'm glad."

Nancy glanced over at him again. It had been just the two of them for so long, and she had always adored him, always looked up to him. He had always been busy, but she had never doubted that he loved her and would do anything in his power to make her happy. More than that, though, he had always treated her like an equal. He had never been condescending to her, or made her feel foolish, only safe.

"I love you," she told her father. "Thanks for being so—well, so great."

"Hey, you're my girl," he said, and smiled. "Well, I guess you aren't a little girl anymore. My beautiful young lady. No matter what, though, I'm always going to be there for you and support you. Don't ever doubt it." He smiled. "I just want you to be all better again soon. After all, have you and Ned even made it out to the lake house yet this season?"

"We're going to go as soon as I'm up to it," she told him. "Maybe we can just have a little welcome-home party out there. It's bigger than our house, anyway."

Nancy was exhausted when they walked back up the steps to the townhouse, and she collapsed onto the couch, panting. She remembered how easily she had been tired out after her first surgery, and how disappointed she had been with how slow her progress was, but her stamina would return. She just had to give it time.

They sat down together at the kitchen table for lunch. Hannah had offered to make her anything else she wanted, but she ate another serving of the chicken lasagna, and pronounced it even better than it had been the night before. Her father did too, with a smile.

Once he told them that he had to leave, Nancy offered to walk him out to the car, using it as another opportunity to get in some exercise. He held her hand as they walked down the front steps, and walked beside her out to his Lincoln.

"I think you know this, but I want to say it anyway," Nancy told him. "When I go to therapy, it's not because of anything Ned's done. It's not because of Ned. I think—no, I _know_. Being with him has made me a lot better off. He makes me happy. He makes me feel safe. And he'd do anything in the world for me. Sometimes—" She cut herself off, and shook her head. _Sometimes more than he probably should_.

"I know," her father told her, and patted her shoulder. "I've been so happy for you, and I'm so proud of you. Ned's a good man. A person would have to be blind, not to see the love in his eyes every time he looks at you."

Nancy smiled. "I just... I didn't want you to think that's why I was in therapy."

He shook his head. "You've been through a lot," he said quietly. "You had to grow up so fast, when you were such a little girl. I think Dr. Monroe helped you a lot, when you were hurting. It's all right, Nan. I just remember how hard it was for you the first time, and if I can do anything to make it easier..."

Nancy smiled at him. "You're here," she told him. "And seeing how much you and Hannah, and Ned and his parents and my friends, all care for me... it means more than I could ever tell you."

He wrapped her in a gentle hug. "No more scares," he told her, putting a mock-sternness in his voice. "I owe too many of these gray hairs to you, young lady. Now get some rest. I'll be back tonight for dinner."

She hugged him in return. "Love you, Dad," she murmured.

"Love you too, sweetheart."


	3. Chapter 3

Nancy's bag was still open on the bed as she surveyed her reflection in the closet's full-length mirror. During a shopping trip a few days earlier, neither she nor George had been able to find anything they couldn't live without—although it had been nice to spend some time with George, if only to hear the perpetual snarky comments about the mannequins and how incredibly impractical everything in the window at Victoria's Secret looked. George had been lured in long enough to try on a sports bra, though—and Nancy had picked out a pretty blue slip from the clearance rack. The cutout sides and half the back were joined by delicate black lace, and Nancy couldn't wait to see the look on Ned's face when he saw it on her.

Nancy _had_ seen a few really pretty summery dresses at the department store, but thanks to her emergency transport, surgery and recovery the month before, she also knew that she and Ned wouldn't be able to afford many extra expenses for a while. Her life had been in danger, and Ned hadn't begrudged a single penny of the bills they had only begun to receive, but Nancy still felt bad. Her father would jump at the chance to help, but after their parents' generous offer to help support his pursuit of the master's degree, she knew Ned was loathe to ask.

The pretty slip had been a splurge, but it had been on clearance and she'd had a coupon. And she'd felt like treating herself. She was going stir crazy while still relegated to doing LKAs and background searches, and the minute her stamina was completely back, she had every intention of begging Trent for an assignment.

The dress she had selected, after some deliberation, for the baby shower was creamy white, printed with what she mentally referred to as the china-pattern. Bess had tried on a similar blue-printed dress when they had been in high school, and that was what George had called it then; Bess had made a face at her cousin, but the association had stuck with Nancy. It did look a bit like Wedgwood china, she had to admit. She carefully maneuvered into a short-sleeved open-weave pale gray cardigan, and nodded in approval. The strappy blue, cork-soled sandals she wore softened the outfit too. It looked just respectable enough for the shower without being too fussy. She wore the gold heart pendant Ned had given her for Christmas around her neck, and a slender gold link bracelet circled her wrist.

At the sound of a creak behind her, Nancy turned and winced. She still overestimated how much she had healed, sometimes. "Unh-uh, mister," she told her husband.

Ned had a half-eaten ice-cream sandwich in his hand—the day was blazing hot, and just the thought of ice cream made Nancy's mouth water—and he was using the other to carefully poke through what she had packed in her small bag. He glanced up, a grin lighting his face, and slowly drew her new slip up and out. "Just making sure you'd packed enough bikinis, sweetheart."

"That is definitely not a bikini," she pointed out, then shook her head with a small, derisive snort. "And I'm not going to be in a bikini, either."

Ned let the slip fall back into her bag and came over to her. He wore nicely-pressed khakis and an Emerson polo; Mike had casually mentioned that he might lose his mind if Ned didn't accompany his wife to the baby shower, so at least he would have someone to talk to. He slid his arm around his wife's waist and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"I think you look fucking gorgeous in a bikini," he murmured against her skin, and Nancy couldn't help shivering at the feel of his breath. "But you look fucking gorgeous in anything. Wear what you want, beautiful, as long as you know that I'll be taking it off you later."

They had finally, very carefully, made love two nights ago, for the first time since her surgery. It wasn't the first time they had been intimate since—but it had been the first time that had actually involved penetrative sex. She had loved it; she had loved sprawling on top of him after, completely naked and boneless with exhaustion, feeling his heart pound against hers as he groaned and stroked her back. The wound left by the chest tube was still a little tender, and she winced every time she saw it, but he hadn't shied away from it or seemed repulsed by the sight of it or the rest of her. All he had cared about was whether she was comfortable and enjoying sex.

She knew it was selfish and impatient of her, but what she _really_ wanted was one of their hours-long sessions, the kind that left them both unable to _move_ , the kind that meant washing the sheets and washing at least a few toys and being _aware_ of their lovemaking even the next morning. The kind that left her throat raw from screaming with pleasure, that left livid red marks down his back, that made them look at each other low-lidded with satisfaction and contentment.

"For our five minutes of missionary," she teased him now.

He growled under his breath, leaning down to nuzzle against her throat, his arm still wrapped possessively around her waist. "Maybe to start," he murmured against her skin.

 Then his other hand drifted up, and she bowed her head, her lips parting as he grazed the curve of her breast, then glanced the edge of his thumb over her nipple, coaxing it to a point. "Ned," she whispered, trying to sound discouraging, but it sounded almost like a moan.

"Mmm-hmm," he said in encouragement, and she managed to bring her head up a little to see their reflection. Ned's dark hair was neatly trimmed, but she could see the faint shadow of stubble on the angle of his jaw, and the late afternoon sunlight gave his naturally tanned skin a golden glow. He cupped her other breast and she tried to think about anything else, but his gentle fondling was definitely leaving her distracted. "My beautiful wife," he whispered, his lips pressed just under the point of her jaw, and she rested her hand over the arm he had about her waist and swayed gently in his arms.

"And my gorgeous and definitely very handsy husband," she replied. "Are we going to the baby shower, or practicing for when we decide we want our own?"

Ned kissed the other side of her neck. "How dare you put ideas in my head that you have no intention of indulging," he murmured. "Attending a boring baby shower or pushing that skirt up and yanking your panties down..."

She giggled as she reluctantly slid out of his arms. "I think given a choice, you'd almost always pick my panties being off."

"Mmm. I like where your head's at," he said with a grin. "Leave 'em at home. It'll save us time. Remember when we were on the way back to your dad's house after the hayride that year..."

She blushed. "You are so bad," she murmured. His dark eyes were alight at the memory. "And you loved every second of it."

"Of course I did. I love the way you look and those little sounds you make when I'm getting you off, gorgeous."

"Right back at you, Nickerson."

He finished the last bite of his sandwich as Nancy ran her hand over her hair and closed the closet door. "You really must be looking forward to the trip, packing two days early."

She shrugged. "Bess confirmed. She can't be there until Friday night, but I think that's when everyone else will be there too. And I know Terry will be there..." Her eyes danced as she watched him lick a few traces of the sandwich from his fingers. "What, you weren't jonesing for some cucumber sandwiches and lemon punch?"

Ned snorted. "You mean a nice juicy steak, maybe some scalloped potatoes..."

"That does sound pretty great," she admitted as they started downstairs.

The coffee table was cleared, but Nancy saw the neat stack of Ned's textbooks and notes on the shelf beneath, next to their wicker basket of condoms and lube. Hannah and Edith and Ned had done their best to keep the house neat and tidy while Nancy was resting and recovering, and while she appreciated their help, she was looking forward to having their house to themselves again.

The baby shower was being held in the back room of a trendy Chicago restaurant, and Nancy and Ned shouldered through the crowd waiting for seating, a gift bag hanging from Ned's fingertips. She had been willing to carry it, but Ned had offered and she hadn't been able to turn him down. There was just something about seeing him carrying a pastel stork gift bag that made her smile.

Mike practically tackled Ned as soon as he walked in. The entire room was a sea of grinning, chattering young women and Jan's relatives, and Mike was the only guy until Ned walked in. Nancy took the bag over to leave it with the other gifts and reintroduced herself to Jan's mother; she recognized her from Jan and Mike's wedding, and from photos Jan had posted on Facebook.

"It's so nice to meet so many of Jan's friends!" Jan's mother reminded Nancy of Hannah; she was plump and friendly, and crow's feet wrinkled the corners of her eyes when she smiled. "What a lovely dress."

"Thank you. And you did such a great job with the decorations. I _love_ these yellow tablecloths."

Jan wore a green and blue printed sundress, and she glowed; her auburn hair was longer, and her belly was well rounded. Her due date was less than two months away, and Nancy had to privately admit that she looked kind of miserable. She rubbed her belly and shook her head at Nancy.

"Pregnancy is _the worst_ ," she muttered when Nancy gave her a hug. "But you look so good. You're doing okay? You look a lot better than you did right after you came home from the hospital." Jan had been reluctant to visit her in the hospital, and Nancy understood; Jan definitely didn't want to get sick if she could avoid it.

"Thanks. And you look like you're a thousand percent ready to have this baby," she commented.

Jan rolled her eyes and sighed. "More," she agreed. "But I think I'm gonna take it easy this weekend, so maybe we can hang out under an umbrella while everyone else has fun?"

Nancy grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "It's a deal."

"That is, if no one starts talking about a beached whale sighting. Then I'll either cry, eat everything I can find, or punch that person in the face."

Nancy shook her head. "Look, I'll make you a deal. You wear whatever you want and I will too and everyone else can just shut up."

Jan sighed. "You just look so... so _cool_ ," she murmured enviously. "And I love your dress."

Nancy accepted warm greeting hugs and smiles from Brook, Trish, and a handful of other Theta Pi sisters who were in attendance. Mindy had heard about the party at the lake, and she mentioned it with a hopeful light in her eyes. "The more, the merrier," Nancy told her. "Ned spoke to his dad this morning and found out we can use another house, if a lot of people end up sleeping over."

Brook clapped. "So will Bess be able to make it?" Trish asked.

Nancy nodded. "She wanted to try to get here for the shower, but she said she'll be in by Friday afternoon. It'll be so good to see her again."

"Poor Jan. No peach wine coolers for her," Mindy sighed. "God, I was so excited when I heard about this. Thanks for inviting us."

Nancy smiled. "I think sometimes Ned forgets that he's not in charge of a frat house anymore and it's okay to have a small, quiet party. You know, every now and then. It's just that this won't be one of those weekends."

Brook smiled and gave Nancy another little hug. "But this will be better," she said. "No unwelcome asshole guests. And no walk of shame back to the Theta Pi house."

"Yeah, probably just an uncomfortable night on an air mattress," Mindy joked.

"If we're lucky," Trish sighed. "BYOB?"

"Bring whatever you want. I'm sure we'll drink it. Except for poor Jan, who will just have to keep an eye on us and make sure that any bonfires are started _outside._ "

Everything about the shower was miniature and adorable. Nancy had consulted Jan's registry, but many of the items on it had already been purchased for previous showers; she had settled on diapers, wipes, and a pack of onesies, having heard that Jan could never have enough of those. Jan smiled and thanked everyone as she made her way through the stack of gifts, and soon she was half obscured by a growing nest of discarded gift wrap and tissue paper.

Although she and Ned didn't have any intention of having a baby soon... she still found herself daydreaming about having her own shower. Setting up a nursery with Ned. Being completely spoiled by him...

Then, she couldn't help grinning to herself. If she were honest... sometimes it was nice to be spoiled, but she didn't love it all the time. Maybe she would feel differently with a small person growing in her belly, squashing her bladder, making her feel miserable and bloated. Poor Jan was still thanking people with gracious smiles even when their gifts were boring onesies and diapers, like Nancy's.

Jan deserved something that wasn't just a baby or expectant-mother gift. Nancy made up her mind to find something appropriate for her friend and give it to her soon.

She saw easily a dozen people approach Ned with grins on their faces, and she knew that if they were lucky, the cops _might_ not be called on their house party. It was turning into an Omega Chi-level blowout, judging by the evidence. And Ned would love every minute of it.

Nancy wrapped her arms over her waist, considering, as she gazed at her husband. They hadn't really made a huge deal out of their birthdays last year; instead, they had just turned into slightly more organized nights out with their friends, other than their family celebrations. She found herself really wanting to do something great for him. Granted, she thought with a small bittersweet smile, she couldn't throw him a giant party in an exclusive downtown restaurant, thanks to her hospital bills...

But, then again, nothing galvanized her like a challenge.

She checked her phone once she and Ned said their goodbyes and started to head home. "Want to do Marcel's?" Ned asked. "I'm too hungry to wait for the grill to heat up."

She directed a grin at him, then reached over and patted his belly. "Good things come to those who wait, Mr. Nickerson."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm all about instant gratification... and finding out what color panties you're wearing."

She chuckled when he patted her knee, her attention returning to her phone. "Yeah, Marcel's is good," she said. Marcel's was near their neighborhood, in a strip mall near their favorite Mexican restaurant, and the prices reflected the location. The build your own salad bar was okay, but the steaks were incredible.

Nancy had received a few new emails; she opened one and then felt dizzy for a second. Ned asked her a question but she couldn't really understand it; he glanced over at her.

"Nan?"

"Mmm," she replied. "Hang on."

Once she had steeled herself and become comfortable with it, she and Ned had begun the task of tracking down other women Jamie might have assaulted or abused. His social media accounts made the work almost embarrassingly easy—and Ned handled that part, because while he felt enraged at the sight of Jamie's cocky grin, it didn't give him a brief panic attack the way it did Nancy. Jamie checked in almost anywhere he went, and documented several nights out with photos. Apparently a night out didn't count unless all his followers were aware of it. Most of the photos featured beer bottles and highball glasses.

Ned had gone back as far as he could, as far back as Nancy's time at Wilder, and had seen the girls he tagged in photos or who tagged him. Many of them were college students, and so Nancy had drafted a generic survey with the promise of a gift card drawing for entrants.

The basic camouflage questions had been easy. _How would you rate your satisfaction with your educational institution? How would you rate your residential experience?_

Ned had needed to write the more important ones. _Were you ever in a situation that involved emotional or physical coercion or abuse? Did all your partners wait for clear consent each time before engaging in intimate contact?_

They had realized that their dragnet might find women who had been victimized by someone other than Nancy's rapist, but that wasn't a bad outcome, in Nancy's opinion. She didn't know if any of the women they contacted would have admitted to themselves that they had dated an abuser, and Nancy had even admitted to Ned one night that her worst fear was that she was the only one—and she would feel even more strongly that the attack had somehow been _her own_ fault, instead of Jamie's. If she was the only one, it had to be something wrong with _her._ If he had assaulted other women... then it hadn't been her fault. Not entirely.

She knew it didn't make sense. But that didn't change anything.

She had set up a generic email account for those who wanted to submit further comments, especially in regards to anything that had made them uncomfortable, and popped it through to her regular account. This email had come to her that way.

_I knew a guy and we'd dated a few times, we'd been together, and then one night he didn't seem to care that I said no. But it doesn't count because we'd already been together, does it?_

Nancy's fingertips were trembling when she finished reading it. God, she had been through so many frightening situations, but just a simple email, just a reminder...

"Nan." Ned touched her knee again, but this time he gripped it lightly. "Honey, you're scaring me."

She took a deep breath. "Okay," she mumbled.

"Shit," he whispered. "We're almost there. Just stay with me, okay?"

She closed her eyes, feeling tears build behind her lids, and concentrated on controlling her breathing. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe she wasn't ready to deal with this yet...

But part of the reason she and Ned had agreed to do this was to both punish Jamie for what he had done, and to make sure he had less chance to hurt anyone again. If his modus operandi was the same with other women, many of them probably felt the same way Nancy had, the same way the person who emailed her had. If saying yes once was saying yes always to him, that was how it would be. No livid bruises, and nothing concrete to show as proof.

It felt like the passage of time should have made it hurt less, but sometimes, like right now, the wound still felt fresh and new and raw.

Ned parked his car in front of the restaurant and then turned to her, cupping her cheeks with his palms. "Shh," he murmured. "It's okay. Can you talk about it?"

She sniffled. "Email," she whispered, and handed him her phone.

He held her hand as he read it, then glanced over at her. "Tell me what you need," he murmured. "Do you want to go home?"

She took a deep breath. "I think I'll be okay if I have a glass of wine with dinner," she murmured. "It's all right. I just need a minute."

Ned stroked the back of her hand as she gently blotted her tears. "Maybe it's too soon," he said quietly. "If you're upset..."

She sniffled and gave herself a little shake. "I think I'll be upset no matter what," she told him. "And there's a statute of limitations. And the point is to stop him from doing this to other people."

"But maybe this isn't the only way. Maybe..."

She gently squeezed his hand. "I'll be all right," she told him. "I will."

Ned searched her eyes. "You know that you don't have to just tell me that, right?" he murmured. "As far as I'm concerned, your peace of mind is too high a price to pay for anything. And I feel like this is my fault."

She opened her mouth to give the protest she already knew was on her lips. Then she sighed. "How about we just talk about it over dinner," she suggested.

Their wait was thankfully short, and Nancy was relieved when the host didn't ask if she was all right. Ned had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she just focused on what was going on around her instead of the lingering panic.

If one of Jamie's victims did want to talk about her experience, then she likely wouldn't trust Ned. Nancy would have to talk to her, and in the process, probably relive her own experience.

_Just stop. Just stop. Don't think about it._

When they were seated, Ned offered to assemble her salad for her, but Nancy insisted on going herself. She needed sensory input, something to focus on other than the white noise of the restaurant around them. The restaurant was cool in the summer heat, and she shivered a little, grateful for the cardigan over her bare shoulders.

"I thought Jan looked good," Ned said when they sat down again. "Mike said she's been able to take on a few freelance jobs, and she found a place that's looking for an editor to replace someone about to retire."

Nancy smiled, grateful to talk about anything other than Jamie. "I'm sure she'll be happy to have something else to think about. She's miserable. I told her I'd hang out with her at the lake."

"That's a shame. Mike is so excited about the baby... I mean, he's a little nervous too, but talking to him... it made me think about us. I guess I couldn't help it."

She smiled again when Ned took her hand. "Me too," she admitted. "I guess I've had a lot of practice over the last year, at not even being able to take care of myself. I think it'll drive me crazy. But I think you'll make a great dad, too."

Ned smiled, and then laced his fingers through hers. "Feeling better?"

She nodded slowly. "I think this is important," she said. "For both of us. And sooner is better. I don't want to pursue a civil suit; no amount of money he could pay me could make up for what happened. So we'll put a time limit on it, and organize it, and try to make sure that anyone else who wants to come forward does so in a relatively short period of time. Too much time, and law enforcement might see them as copycats or attention seekers. Even though I don't know any woman who would ever falsely claim she was attacked."

Ned nodded, his dark-eyed gaze sympathetic. "Okay," he agreed. "For as long as you're comfortable. The last thing I want is for this to upset you."

She gave him a small humorless smile. "It will," she murmured. "But we'll get through it."

By the end of the meal she had finished her second glass of wine, and she had regained her equilibrium, for the most part. She and Ned went home and changed into loose, lounging clothes; she felt restless, though, and after impatiently thumbing through the channel guide, she released a sigh.

Ned glanced up at her from his laptop screen. He was researching an article; he had a highlighter perched over a printout, and half a dozen tabs pulled up in his browser. She had teased him once that he was one of the most studious frat boys she had ever met; he had no intention of wasting their parents' investment in his education.

"I wish I could go for a run."

He scratched his temple. "I'd feel better if I went with you," he said. "Give me ten minutes to finish this up?"

She raked her hair into a ponytail, found a hat and her running shoes, and went into the kitchen, absently rubbing her chest tube scar.

_He deserves to be punished._

She closed her eyes. It had been easier when she hadn't let herself think about it, hadn't let herself remember. It had been easier when Ned hadn't known. But part of what she loved about him was exactly this, and if one of her friends had come to her and told her a story similar to her own, it was exactly what she would have wanted to do.

_He deserves to be punished._

She looked at the contents of the refrigerator without really seeing them. Half a pitcher of strawberry lemonade, stacked cups of yogurt, half a container of organic baby lettuce mix, a package of ground beef for tomorrow's dinner. She closed the refrigerator door and tipped forward as she closed her eyes, bowing her head and resting against the cool surface.

She heard Ned moving, and she expected it, but that didn't lessen her response to it. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, and pressed a gentle kiss against the point of her jaw. She rested her hands over his and felt the steady beat of his heart.

"I feel like you probably aren't up to racing yet. But we will." He kissed her again. "And I still don't know what color your panties are."

Her lips quirked up into a smile. "After," she murmured. "I need you."

"And I need you too, beautiful. I need you to be here with me. I love you, Nan."

"I love you too."

They didn't race. They held hands and made a steady circuit of their cul-de-sac, and every now and then she glanced up at him. She could still smell the heat of the day, gasoline, honeysuckle, charcoal and grass and summer. She looked into his face when they had just passed into the halo of a streetlamp. His fingers were laced between hers, and she could feel his wedding band. He turned to look at her too, and he gave her a sweet smile before they moved into the gray dusk together again.

When they had first begun seeing each other again, she had been so aware of how lucky she was, how easy it would have been for him to tell her he was too hurt to try rebuilding their relationship. As they had grown closer, as their time together had felt more natural and familiar, it had hurt to remember how alone she had felt when they had been apart. But she had. She knew what losing him would do to her.

The difference between who she had been and who she was now, that wide gulf—he had taken her emptiness and filled it up, and she never doubted his love for her, his support of her. He was her best friend. And at every shared glance, she had no doubt at all that this was where she was meant to be: by his side, spending her nights in his arms.

He was beautiful. Her love made him more than beautiful.

And he had loved her through so much, in spite of so much. Even though she had taken his heart and broken it so throughly.

When they were nearly in front of their townhouse again, Nancy's steps slowed. "Go ahead," she told him. "Show me what you've got, Nickerson."

His eyebrows quirked up, but she stood on the sidewalk in front of their house and watched as he broke into a full run. She could remember racing him at Emerson, could remember runs that had ended with him gently tackling her to soft grass and both of them laughing as they tried to catch their breath. She remembered mornings he had intended to go on a run but she had wrapped herself around him and drawn him back to her, suggesting that they could find a different and much more fun way to get in a workout.

He still had the perfect runner's stance, and the impact of his shoes echoed as she crossed her arms and watched him, admiring the muscular lines of his body. For other people, it was probably easy to just think of him as the good-natured, intelligent boy scout he appeared to be. But she had seen him when the people he loved and cared about were threatened.

He had beat the shit out of Jamie for hurting her.

Maybe Jamie had thought it was all right to hurt her. Maybe he truly had seen something in her that had made him think she was easy prey. But he hadn't known about Ned.

For a long time, Nancy had dedicated her energy, her strength and her intelligence to helping those who couldn't help themselves. Good people who found themselves in tough situations. He was doing that for her now.

She opened her arms and he slowed his last few steps to a pounding stop before he swept her up. He was panting and sweating, and she kissed his cheek as his chest rose and fell rapidly against hers. "Very impressive, Nickerson."

He chuckled, his breath warm against her ear, stuttering with his pants. "Mmm. That felt good. And soon you'll be able to do that with me, baby."

She couldn't help smiling. He always had such faith in her. "Maybe we should go upstairs and get in another kind of workout," she suggested.

"Shower?"

"Mmm. Definitely."

He had washed all the sweat away and so had she, when he moved behind her, gently turning her so she was facing the shower wall. His hand slid between her legs and cupped the join of her thighs, and she closed her eyes as the water beat down on them, reaching up to brace herself.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," she murmured.

He rubbed his thumb against her wet, already stiff nipple as his other hand gently stroked the slit of her sex. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck as he teased her, as she felt an answering throb of arousal, leaving her clit and her inner flesh tender. She rested her forehead against the shower wall, releasing a quiet moan.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin, and began to tease her other breast and nipple, still slowly tracing the slit of her sex without parting her. When his thumb rubbed firm circles just above her slit, teasing her clit without directly touching it, she gasped, reaching down to cup her hand loosely over his. "Mmm. I want you so fucking wet when you take me, beautiful."

She whined. "Oh my God," she moaned. "Oh, _Ned_..."

"I love it when you say my name like that," he breathed, and nipped at her earlobe. She was tense with need, and she could feel him pressed against the small of her back, could feel that he was already hard for her. "Nancy. My beautiful girl."

Her lips parted, and she panted as he pressed harder, as he gently pinched her left nipple. "Oh," she whimpered, and her grip on him tightened as she arched. "Oh my God. Ohhhh... oh God, I love you."

Just hearing the words, speaking the words, made her chest tighten. It had never been easy to say, not for her, but it was true. It had been from the moment they met.

She turned in his arms and reached down to shut off the water. "Sit down," she murmured, and she saw his gaze flick from her wet-lashed blue eyes to her lips and back again before he obeyed. Maybe he was the one who most often took control in their bed, but it was because she wanted him to, because she needed him to. He was devoted to her, but that didn't mean that he would let her walk all over him, or that his entire world revolved around her.

She was still sometimes left speechless by the knowledge that she was _his_. That the only man who had fully claimed her heart had proven so worthy of it.

He wrapped a bath sheet around them before she sank onto him, carefully balancing her weight, lining up her hips. He sighed silently when the tip of his erection came in contact with her slick inner flesh, and her fingers were threaded through his dark, thick hair as she closed her eyes.

He let her control it, control all of it. He just stroked her clit, his skin still slick from their shower, and warm under her fingertips. She moved down until he was fully inside her, and her lips were parted as she nuzzled against his neck, savoring the feeling of it.

"God," he whispered. "Nancy..."

She smiled. "Just like that," she whispered.

She rode him, their lips meeting in claiming kisses, her arms draped over his shoulders. Then she opened her eyes and watched his gaze as she sank down onto his lap again.

"I love you."

Her lips parted as she shifted the angle of her hips. "I love you," she answered him. "Always. _Always._ "

Fucking him felt incredible when she was this wet, and though she didn't have the strength to keep it up for as long as she wanted, she was still shivering with pleasure when she sank onto him again. "More?" he murmured.

"Yes. Please."

Then he picked her up and pinned her against the wall of the shower, her heels propped on the lip of the tub to give her leverage. "Tell me if it's too much."

"Okay."

Then he moved inside her in one long smooth thrust, and she arched, shuddering as he stroked her clit too. "Shit," she sighed, angling her hips, her eyes rolling back as their angle became _perfect_. "Ohhhhh shit..."

"Yeah." He nuzzled against her cheek. "God, you feel so fucking good, baby."

"And you fuck so good." She grinned as he kissed the side of her neck. "Oh God, oh _yes!_ "

He moved inside her until she was clawing at him, gasping for breath, straining against his thrusts. He moved inside her and she relished the feel of it, of being possessed, claimed, loved; his lips brushed her skin and every flick of his thumb against her clit made her inner flesh tremble. When she began to cry out, he nipped at her neck, roughly fondling her clit until she was sobbing out her screams.

He moved in her through her orgasm, until her arousal had peaked and she was beyond it, to a place of pure shattering bliss, and all she knew was him. She sobbed out his name as she gasped in her breaths, chanting "Oh my _God_ " over and over, and then he finally buried himself inside her and let himself come, his hips jerking against hers.

"Ned," she moaned. "Oh God, oh _yes_..."

He was panting and she was still trembling with her orgasm, her inner flesh clenching and releasing around him, and she screamed when he brushed against her clit one last time. He gathered her to him, supporting her ass, and she wrapped her legs around him and rested her head against his shoulder, both of them gasping for breath.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." She ran her fingers through his dark hair and smiled against his neck. "More than okay, I think."

He chuckled. "You are so fucking hot, baby," he murmured. "Holy shit. I love you. I love you so much."

She moved to look into his face, then kissed him, slow and deep, her tongue sliding against his, his cock still between her legs. Slowly he pressed against her again, and then with one last soft kiss he released her, so she could stand up by herself again.

"Hmm," she muttered, as she felt his seed begin to trickle down her inner thighs. She yanked the shower curtain back and twisted the shower back on, and both of them gasped as the now-icy water hit them.

"Way to kill the mood, honey," Ned teased her.

"Just wanted to make sure that if you woke up at two o'clock and were absolutely _dying_ to eat me out, you could," she teased him back as she rinsed between her thighs.

"Shit, that sounds perfect. You sitting on my face while you suck my dick..." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, and once the water was lukewarm, he rinsed himself off too. She felt two minutes away from completely exhausted, but at his words, her inner flesh tightened again. It happened again a minute later, when he picked her discarded panties up from the bathroom floor, holding them up like a trophy. "Pink with silver stripes," he said triumphantly, and she chuckled.

"So, feeling better?"

He asked her that when they were settled in bed together, her hair drying in reddish-gold waves down her back, both of them clad in nothing more than clean underwear. He had his arm looped around her and she was resting with her head against his shoulder, and she could already feel the first tacky traces of sweat beginning to rise where their skin touched. She didn't want to let him go yet, though.

"Yeah." She traced a looping design on his shoulder with her fingertips, then rubbed her palm over it, as though erasing it. "It wasn't always going to be easy. I guess life would be boring if it were."

If she thought too much about it, the gentle strokes of his fingertips against the small of her back would make her more than just wet. She closed her eyes and wondered if he knew what he was doing to her—and then his fingertips dipped just beneath the band of her panties, just barely, and she knew he did.

"I have no problem working hard for what's important to me," he murmured, and briefly rested his other palm against her hair. "Some things mean more when we fight for them, but, baby... I would never have wanted you to have to fight for this. It was something that was never his to take. But of all the things that drive me crazy about you, and all the reasons I love you... you don't back down from a challenge either."

"Yeah." She sighed. "It's just easier when it's for someone else. You know?"

"Yeah." He kissed her forehead. "And that's why this has been so important to me."

\--

"Nan, you do know this is a party for _you_ , right?"

After some frantic digging in her shoulder bag, she had located a smaller paper bag; the square white box, wrapped in a green ribbon, rested in her hand. Then she slotted it back in and put it away. "I know," she sighed. "But Jan deserves this. I'd feel kind of bummed if all the gifts people gave me for six months were just boring diapers and onesies."

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind."

She chuckled. "I will expect plenty of selfless devotion," she teased him. "Fresh-cut flowers and foot rubs, liberal gifts of jewelry and chocolates. You know, the usual."

"Nothing but the best for my girl."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You already give me the best," she murmured, as she wiped away the trace of her lip gloss. "And nothing could ever be more important to me than being with you."

He glanced from the road ahead of them over at her face. Her reddish-gold hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and rhinestone-dotted sunglasses covered her blue eyes. A dusting of freckles had appeared since her surgery, on her forehead, cheeks and nose. She was finally starting to seem relaxed, after being miserable and stiff and impatient during her recovery. Once they returned from their lake trip, he was pretty sure she would be back in the field again.

He had known it would happen. A part of him had really liked having her home, knowing that she was likely out of danger. Soon he wouldn't have that assurance anymore. Some nights he would come home to an empty townhouse and refrigerated leftovers. Some nights he would stay awake waiting for her to join him in their bed.

But she would be happy. She would be eager to tell him about her day, even when it had been frustrating and challenging. Sure, he generally feared for her safety, but he was proud of her. He had always been proud of her.

"Well, sweetheart, you will have my undivided attention this weekend," he told her, shooting another quick glance at her so he could wiggle his eyebrows, and was rewarded with her chuckle. "My queen. So when will Bess be here to distract you?"

She smiled. "Uh... I think she'll be getting there about eight o'clock or so. She'll probably be exhausted, though, with the flight and everything. So we'll be able to get in some one-on-one time tonight."

Ned shook his head. He wasn't counting on it, not with all the people they had invited. Jan and Mike would be there, and probably a bunch of Theta Pi and Omega Chi alums in addition to the ones he had officially invited. Ned's frat had been known to run parties lasting three days solid.

He had been glad, though, to pull Mike and Howie in on his plans, and they had been happy to go along with it. Howie was stopping by the party store on the way in, and Mike had mixed up a batch of punch. Ned had a feeling that Terry would enjoy the party, but Ned's cousin was more excited at the prospect of seeing Bess again.

The four of them didn't talk about it, and in the times Howie, Mike, and Terry had seen Nancy since, they hadn't mentioned it. But they understood how protective Ned was of her, of a woman who was so strong and capable in nearly every of her life.

The small lake cabin Ned's parents had originally let him use soon after he and Nancy had started dating again was much the way it had been then. He told her to sit down while he brought in the luggage and started making up the bed, but she helped him anyway. Her blue eyes were sparkling. She was just as excited as he was.

Once the bed was made, she cast a longing glance at it. "Why don't you take a little nap," he suggested. "I'll go to the store and pick up some groceries, see who's here so far. Okay?"

She sat down at the foot of the bed and looked up at him. "I sleep best with you," she murmured. "Come back soon?"

He gently cupped her cheek. "Of course," he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her. "Get some rest. I'm sure you won't have much chance tomorrow."

Between them, they had decided to have a cookout the first night, and Ned went over to the main house to check on the preparations. Guests arrived with cases of beer and bottles of alcohol in brown paper bags, six-packs of coolers and fruity drinks. Many of them stripped down to swimsuits and headed to the beach, taking advantage of the last few hours of daylight.

Ned returned to the small cabin and found his wife asleep in the bed they would share, and stripped down to his boxers before joining her. Howie had promised to start prepping the grill, and the Theta girls had brought some deli side dishes to serve along with the bagged chips Ned had picked up. Jasmine had brought some jello shots to kick off the festivities, too.

Nancy stirred a little, and cuddled against Ned when he moved toward her. Her skin was warm and smooth under his fingertips, and sometimes he felt her breathe against him and just felt so, so incredibly lucky. He could distantly, very distantly, hear the other guests call out to each other and crow with laughter as they played on the shore.

They would be like Mike and Jan. The prospect was almost terrifying, but he thought about it with wonder.

He didn't really sleep; instead, he held her and rested. When she stirred and pushed herself up, he smiled at her, his arm still wrapped around her waist.

"Everything okay?"

He nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mmm-hmm. Everything's great. You ready for the cookout, baby?"

"Yeah. I just need to get dressed..."

She wore a pretty dress with an abstract yellow floral print, one that covered the scars from her recent surgery, and she looked light and cool and happy. They walked over to the party as the sun was going down, his arm around her waist, and the people already gathered around the grill and the volleyball net and patio greeted them—greeted _her_ —with clapping and happy cheers.

"Here's the guest of honor," Ned announced, unnecessarily, with a grin. "Thanks for coming, guys. Try to save some of the liquor for tomorrow night, all right?"

Someone had set up speakers out on the patio of the largest house they were using, and bass-heavy dance-friendly music blared out into the night. Ned checked his watch and saw that Bess would probably be arriving soon; George was already there, and Nancy greeted her with a smile and a long hug. Ned gave her a hug too. He had been aware that Nancy could take care of herself, more than aware, but when George had been around, he had been a little happier. George was fiercely protective, and Ned had been more than glad to see Nancy renew her relationship with the cousins, and to see them at the altar on their wedding day. The ceremony just wouldn't have been the same without them, or without their support.

He didn't need to stay glued to her side, and he trusted all their guests, but he kept an eye on her when they were apart. She exclaimed happily over the buffet that had been set up, and limited herself to a grilled chicken breast with some pasta salad. When George made a comment about lemonade chicken, Ned mock-threatened her with a plastic fork. Someone had decorated the patio area with Chinese lanterns and tiki torches, and somehow it all worked.

Ned had just turned to Nancy to ask if she wanted a refill on her glass of punch when he saw her eyes light up. "Oh my _God!_ " she exclaimed, and began walking to his left.

He was just as surprised as she had been to see the new arrivals. He had been expecting Bess, but Jennifer Bishop and Emily Terner were with her.

"Nancy! You're doing okay!" Emily exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her.

"I can't believe you two are here!"

Ned smiled as he walked over too, giving Bess a little wave. Terry hadn't yet arrived, but Bess's smile didn't seem to be dimmed by his absence.

"Ned!" Emily called, and gave him a wave. "You guys doing anything the last weekend of the month?"

"Dunno," he commented. "I can't think of anything off the top of my head. What's going on?"

"A race!" Emily replied, her eyes sparkling. "I know it's kind of short notice—"

"If you need a crew, Terner, better leave Nan out of it," he told her. "I know she _thinks_ she's superwoman, but she's still recovering from some kryptonite."

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Not that that doesn't sound like fun," she replied. "But you're just talking about us showing up to cheer you on, right? And eating some incredible seafood while we're up there."

"Exactly," Emily said, flipping her hair. Her eyes were sparkling. "Or she could be a good-luck charm on deck..."

Ned ruffled her hair, and she ducked away from him. Then he slid his arm around Nancy's waist, and Bess laughed.

"The golden couple," she said, stepping in and embracing both of them briefly. "I'm so glad you're okay, Nan. I'm really sorry I wasn't able to make it out earlier."

Nancy shook her head, giving Bess a small, genuine smile, more honest than the smiles he had often seen on her face around other visitors. "Ned had me in good hands pretty much instantly," she told Bess. "And he was there every day. I'm just glad you were able to make it out for the party. It wouldn't feel the same without you. You look like sunshine."

"Speak for yourself," Bess said with a smile. "You look gorgeous."

For the rest of the night, it felt kind of like old times. Ned circulated through the party, making sure everyone was set, and Nancy was with Bess and George, always with a big red plastic tumbler of punch in her hand, laughing and having a good time, greeting all the guests who approached her with a broad, happy smile. He checked on her a few times, but she was clearly delighted to be around Bess and George, and he couldn't blame her. When Jan joined the knot of women lingering around Nancy, Ned relaxed a little. At least Jan would probably keep them out of too much trouble.

When they ran out of ice, Terry and Ned were deep in conversation, and they went into the big rented house to search the freezer. They were both buzzing and happy, and Howie joined them, and Ned only realized how long they had been inside talking when his phone buzzed against his hip.

_where u? :(_

He was outside thirty seconds later, with Terry hoisting a bag of ice to dump into the cooler, and he spotted Nancy almost immediately. Her entire face lit up when she saw him, easy and unselfconscious, and she stumbled a little as she took a step toward him. He came over to her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Steady, sweetheart. You okay?"

She nodded, bobbing her head in an exaggerated way. Her blue-eyed gaze was fixed on his face. "Do you know I love you? I love you soooooo much."

He couldn't help grinning at her, and he brushed his lips against the tip of her nose. "I love you too, baby."

She pouted a little, her brow furrowing. "I need—I need to tell you," she said, with some difficulty, and leaned against him. She patted his cheek. "You're so—good to me. So good. And it's okay—I just..." She sniffled. "I love you."

"I know. And maybe we should go hang out together, just the two of us, so I can tell you how much I love _you_ , too." He kissed her temple, and looked over at Terry. "Be back over here for brunch, okay? You guys got this?"

Terry and Howie nodded, and Mike too. Bess was patting Nancy's back. "Sorry," Bess said quietly to Ned. "It just... tastes so good."

Ned chuckled. "Good to see you again, Bess—Em and Jennifer. Talk to Howie if you can't find a room, okay?"

Nancy leaned heavily on Ned while they were walking back to the smaller house. Then her steps slowed, and she very nearly just sat down in the path. Ned reached down and swept her up into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around him too. "I've got you," he murmured. "We'll be inside soon. You can rest, okay?"

"Okay." She giggled and kissed his cheek. "You look so good. I want to lay with you. You're so warm. And you're so pretty."

"You're pretty too, Nan. The most gorgeous girl in the world." He shifted her a little in his arms. "You had a lot to drink, huh."

"I just... mmm." She rested her head against his shoulder. "You're so good to me," she whispered.

Once they were inside, she had to try a few times to get her dress off. She sat at the foot of their bed, her head bowed, eyes closed, wearing just her underwear and her sandals. Ned gently took her sandals off, stripping out of his own clothes; he retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge in the kitchen and brought them to the bedroom.

"Here, sweetheart. Drink this."

"Mmm?" She slowly opened her eyes, but her head seemed to be too heavy to hold up. She left the pain reliever he handed her in the cup of her hand, then moaned briefly.

"Bathroom. _Ugh._ "

"Yeah," Ned said sympathetically. "Here. Let me help."

He held her hair and rubbed her back when she expelled the contents of her stomach, and though he could tell she was miserable, he was glad that she was at least getting rid of some of it. Maybe she wouldn't be incapacitated by her hangover in the morning. When she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she had splashed water on her face; her mascara was smeared. She collapsed to the bed, drinking another few gulps of water and the pain reliever at Ned's prompting, although it took her a few tries to swallow the pills.

He took his own trip to the bathroom, brushing his teeth too; he could tell he was still drunk, but he had sobered up some. Seeing that text message had given him a rush of adrenaline, thanks to his momentary alarm, and that had burned away some of it. When he returned she was on her stomach on the bed, her chin down.

"Nan, sweetheart," he murmured, and he helped her move under the covers. She rolled onto her back, reaching for him.

"I wanted—to talk," she breathed, and nestled against him. "So sleepy."

"It's okay. You need your rest."

"Mmm. I love you. I love—when you're inside me. Loving me."

"I always love you." He kissed her forehead. "When we're having sex and when we aren't. And we can make love in the morning, if your headache isn't too bad."

"Mmm." She released a long happy sigh when he rubbed her back. "I just want to climb inside you," she mumbled. "Safe."

He felt his eyes suddenly prick a little. "You're safe," he whispered, and kissed her again. "You're loved and cherished and safe. Sleep, Nan."

\--

"I don't think I'm gonna drink _at all_ tonight." Bess groaned as she rolled onto her stomach. Her tanned skin contrasted with the white in the pink and white stripes on her beach towel. She had untied her bikini top, ostensibly to help Terry apply suntan oil more easily.

Terry and Jan chuckled at the same time. Jan was resting on a reclined lounge chair and shaded by an umbrella, and Nancy was sharing the shade with her—and she had promised to help Jan up, since the chair was low. Despite Ned's assurance, Nancy wore a ribbed blue one-piece under a sleeveless terry cover-up. Maybe he wasn't distracted by her scars, but she didn't want to see suppressed repulsion and pity on the faces of their friends. Ned had brought Nancy a strawberry lemonade with a paper umbrella in it before joining the guys for a volleyball match, and Nancy picked the sweating glass up for a long sip.

"I'm not sure I will, either," Nancy commented as she put the glass back down. "It hit me like a ton of bricks last night."

"Oh, don't say that," Jan said, looking over at Nancy. Then she pressed her lips together and glanced at the water. The romance novel she had brought hadn't caught her attention for more than a couple of minutes.

"What?" Nancy asked, pushing her sunglasses up to look into Jan's face before the glare of the sun on the sand hit her. "What's up?"

Jan shrugged, then sighed. "Oh, they—Ned and Mike and the guys, they planned something nice for tonight. I know they'll be disappointed if you're still feeling bad."

Bess propped her chin up on her hand, using her other arm to cover her breasts. "Mmm. A mini Omega Chi party on the beach. We'll be lucky if we aren't _all_ arrested."

"Speak for yourself," Jan chuckled. "I might just have to be bartender."

Cheering on the volleyball court drew their attention, and Terry stood when Ned beckoned him over. "Come take my place," he called to his cousin. "Got to give the other guys a fighting chance."

Terry chuckled ruthlessly. "That's what you think."

Ned took a dip in the lake before coming over to his wife, and Nancy pulled the other towel out of her bag for him. "Feeling okay?" Ned murmured as he sprawled out beside her, out of the shadow of the umbrella. Seeing him that way made her think of their anniversary trip—and of riding him in broad daylight, completely exposed, how exhilarating it had been.

She reached over and patted his hand. "I'm okay," she murmured. "I think I should be good by tonight. Since apparently it's going to be pretty awesome."

Ned raised an eyebrow. "There's just no keeping secrets from my girl," he replied. "Sorry you weren't feeling up to volleyball."

"Maybe tomorrow." She laced her fingers through his and closed her eyes. 

She couldn't remember all of the night before very clearly, but she _did_ remember him carrying her back to the cabin where they were staying, and wanting him with every atom of her being. She remembered needing to tell him, to make sure he knew, how much he meant to her—that she loved him, that without him she wouldn't have had the strength to even admit what Jamie had done to her. She remembered feeling safe in Ned's arms, even while she was shivering as her inebriation passed, cuddling against him and thinking with the same wonder she had on their wedding night, that he was her husband. Her _husband_. And that had been more than enough.

They had spent all day together, from the moment she had slowly returned to consciousness that morning. The dose of pain reliever she had swallowed with a glass of orange juice had kicked in when they were in the shower, and she had reached up and twined her arms around his neck, closing her eyes and letting the water pound down around them, and she had been whole. He had taken her back to bed after, with her reddish-gold hair drying in waves down her back, and they had made love slowly, gazing into each other's eyes for most of it. With every brush of his lips against her skin, every stroke of his fingertips against her hips, she had felt such love for him, so much that her sides and throat had hurt with keeping it in.

Brunch had been a buffet of waffles and fresh fruit, hash browns, bacon and sausage links, with mimosas for those who felt up to it. Nancy's breakfast had been a handful of fruit and undoctored orange juice, but Ned had put away at least one serving of everything. The air was warm and their guests were slowly recovering from the night before, preparing for the main event.

She didn't need all this, and she had been more pleased than she could say at coming home to him and their families, but it felt good; it felt like old times, when George strode over, squeezing the lake water out of her dark hair. "Looks like we have some new guests," she murmured, sitting down at the edge of her cousin's beach towel. "Feelin' better, cuz?"

"Mmm," Bess groaned. "What was that disgusting health shake you made that one time?"

George laughed. "Protein powder and wheatgrass. And a little bit of blueberry, I think."

"Yeah. Maybe if you made some of that, I could drink it and throw up and feel better."

Nancy turned her head and looked at her husband. Their hands were still joined, and he looked over at her too, then lifted their hands to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles.

"You're amazing," she told him softly. "Thanks for doing all this for me."

He smiled, but shook his head slightly. "It's everyone here," he murmured. "Believe me, everyone wanted to give you a great welcome-home. It just happened to not be _at_ home. And it's not just me."

She blinked once. She could hear Jan and Bess and George behind her, could hear Terry calling over to them too. "It is," she whispered to him, and when she gazed into his eyes, she could see that he understood. "Because it all started with you."

He reached over and touched the center of her chest, gently. "It all started with you," he whispered. "You took the first step. You, beautiful. And I love you so, so very much."

Jules had promised to come by for the party, and Mel arrived soon after she did, once the sun was just beginning to think about going down. Nancy pretended not to notice the significant glances Ned was getting, and after he suggested they go for a swim in the lake, of course they had to go back to their cabin to change and prepare for the party.

She put on a sundress made of soft jersey, in a faded coral, and hastily plaited her hair into a messy side braid. Her outfit was very casual, but she finished it with the heart pendant Ned had given her.

"Mmm. You look beautiful," Ned told her, coming up behind her and sliding his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes and smiled when he kissed her temple.

"So I don't need to dress up some more?"

He shook his head. "You just need to be comfortable. And after the party, we'll come back here... and you can dress down as much as you want, gorgeous."

She couldn't help grinning as he held her tight. "Mmm-hmm. You're such an accommodating man."

"You bet I am." He kissed her temple again. "Look... I know that this kind of thing isn't your favorite. So, thanks for putting up with all this."

She rested her hands over his and met his eyes in his reflection. "The intentions are good," she murmured. "Besides, everyone out here is excited for some reason to come see us and have a good time and maybe get drunk. It's not..." She pressed her lips together for a few seconds. "It's not that they know. That they feel sorry for me. They just think I was in the hospital for a little while and now I'm back to my old self."

He kissed her earlobe. "And that's how you want it, isn't it," he murmured.

"Yeah," she whispered. "The people closest to me... they know. And that's more than enough. Tonight we'll have fun and it'll be nice."

He nuzzled against her neck, and she turned in his arms; their lips met in a long, sweet kiss, and she ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm celebrating the relief I felt when the doctor said you'd be okay," he told her, his lips still brushing against hers. "How happy I was the day you came home from the hospital. Waking up the next morning and seeing that you were still in my arms, that it wasn't just a dream. How happy I am to be with you right now."

She smiled. "And I'm always happy to be with you," she told him. "Always. This party wouldn't mean anything to me without you here."

She had to laugh when she saw the decorations and the way everything had been set up. The girls wore classic white nurse's caps with red crosses on them, and the guys wore toy stethoscopes. A large cooler of spiked punch was hand-labeled "Power-Up Punch," and another was labeled "Invincibility Tonic (Use Responsibly)." Howie offered Nancy one of the white caps when she approached.

"Glad you're doing okay, little lady," he told her with a smile.

Nancy smiled. "Thanks, Howie," she said, and gave him a hug.

The cake at the end of the buffet table had been made in the shape of a bandaged teddy bear; "Stay Well, Nancy" had been written on the base of it. Jan greeted Nancy with a hug and a kiss on each cheek; she thanked Nancy again for her gift, a necklace pendant with a scrap of an Austen book under glass, and a miniature pressed flower on the opposite side. Everyone hugged Nancy; many of them cheered when they saw her.

On a small table near the punch, Nancy saw a stack of construction paper strips, a chisel-tip marker, and a tape dispenser. A partial chain had been started. Nancy managed to stroll close enough to read the directions on the table: _An opportunity to tell Nancy how glad you are that she's doing okay._

She had known she was all right; she had been sure of it. But she found that tears were rising in her eyes, and just then she felt Ned's arm slide around her waist.

"You okay?"

Mike clapped his hands a few times, then reached for his cup of punch. "All right, guys! To the guest of honor, my best friend's girl, Nancy. Three cheers!"

Once the cries and cheers had died down and Nancy had grinned and nodded her acknowledgement, she turned to look into Ned's eyes, and her own were still shining.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I am."


	4. Chapter 4

"Nancy? Earth to Nancy."

Nancy stood with her hand resting on the countertop in the small kitchen at her workplace. Her gaze was unfocused. The scent of freshly-brewed coffee was in the air, mingling with the remains of microwaved teriyaki beef and rewarmed spaghetti in sauce, but Nancy's mind was still at her desk, working on her current case.

"Should I call Ned?"

Nancy shook herself a little, and smiled when she saw Jules. "Hey. What's up?"

"Things not going well?" Jules propped her hip on the counter and gave Nancy a concerned look. Nancy had been cleared to work in the field for almost two weeks now, and though her stamina wasn't quite where she wanted it since her surgery, she was still delighted to be working stakeouts and surveillance again.

She shrugged and lifted her newly refilled coffee cup for a sip. "Mmm. A lot of leads, and I just don't want to waste any time. So what's going on?" She nodded at the message slip in Jules's hand.

"Oh." Jules shrugged. "Had a specific request come in for you, for a new surveillance case. Can you meet the client tonight?"

Nancy felt a small tingle down her spine—she always felt a little thrill when clients specifically requested her—but she had to reluctantly shake her head. "Not tonight. I won't be available until way too late. Maybe tomorrow?"

"I'll check. If not, I can see if Chelle or Desmond are available...?"

Nancy nodded. "Yeah. And if tomorrow's okay, I'll take it."

Tonight... tonight was going to be hard. Ned's friend Darius was in town, and Ned had invited him out to dinner, but Nancy hadn't been able to commit to it, not once she checked her schedule and realized she had a therapy appointment. With any luck, Ned would be getting home—by himself—at about the same time she did. She didn't like coming home to an empty house after seeing her therapist, or having to put on a polite face for other people when she was in mental turmoil. She didn't really like much of anything at all, after meeting with her therapist.

Dr. Monroe didn't know about what Ned had done about her assault, and Nancy had no intention of telling her. That guilty knowledge wasn't the only thing that made her change the subject whenever it came up. She had always hated talking about the attack and what had happened after. At least now they were just talking about her recovery from the injury and the surgery to repair the damage, and whether she had found herself returning to the same feelings of worthlessness and depression again.

It would have been easy to do that, if Ned hadn't been a part of her life. He had been so incredibly patient, tender and kind, not to mention encouraging. When she had told him that she would be returning to field duty, he hadn't suggested that she take a few more days on desk duty. He had just told her that if she felt ready, then he was happy for her. He knew that being out of the field had driven her crazy, even though it had meant she was likely much safer from further injury.

When she was _here_ , at work, she was strong; she had little choice. She had to be strong and competent and brave at work, and knowing that made it easier. When she was home, in her husband's arms, she was able to relax and be vulnerable, to admit her fear. She could be less than perfect.

Ned never questioned it or belittled her for it. He didn't seem to be threatened by her continued visits to her therapist, either, and she was infinitely grateful for that. Ned always, _always_ had her best interests at heart, but he also wasn't a trained therapist—and she always had the knowledge, in the back of her mind, that he had seriously injured her ex-boyfriend. Jamie had deserved every blow, but she hadn't been the one to deliver them.

Ned was strong when she couldn't be, and she felt stronger because she had him. She also knew that if he found out she was hurting or upset, he would go to the ends of the earth to fix it, and sometimes nothing he could do _could_ fix it. Just time and learning, so very slowly, how to get past it.

It was easier to focus on the case she was working than to think about her therapy appointment, and she walked back to her desk already losing herself in thought again. Some clue, something she had seen, was rattling around in her subconscious. She could tell. Maybe it was a coincidence or nothing at all, but it was worth a shot.

She was so engrossed in her work that when it was time for her to leave for her appointment, she jerked her head up to glance at the clock, then muttered a curse. She pulled the elastic ring out of her hair and ran her fingers through it, sliding a few jotted notes into her purse. For as long as she could focus on the case, she wouldn't be thinking about the therapy.

Of course, once she was in her car, she had to focus on driving—and think about her appointment. Her fingers were tapping the steering wheel, and she touched her wedding band and engagement ring, then ran her thumb under the chain hanging around her neck, bringing it up to rest over her shirt. _A new case tomorrow..._

But what would happen afterward almost negated it. She had talked to a few of Jamie's other victims through email, but one of them had sent her a request to meet in person. They had arranged to meet in a bar the following night, after she was off work, and although Nancy knew it was important, she couldn't help dreading it. To establish her credentials, she would likely need to talk about her own experience, and that was painful. She couldn't just put on a persona like she usually did when she was undercover, and talking about it... her nerves were raw when she remembered it, and it was so much easier to just bury herself in her work.

After the therapy session, though, nothing else was in her head. She sat in the driver's seat of her Mustang and pressed a crumpled tissue against her wet, stinging eyes, trying to stop herself from crying. She hated crying, in or out of therapy, and she just hadn't been ready. It hadn't been a trickle, tonight; it had been a flood. It was as though the only way she had been able to deal with the pressure had been to just ignore it, but Dr. Monroe never let her get away with that.

She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep, to get some of her equilibrium back before Ned came home from dinner, although her stomach was growling. She had eaten a hasty light lunch and nothing for dinner yet. Even the thought of reheating some leftovers was too much, and she didn't want anyone at a drive-thru window to see her this way.

She had been expecting to come home to a dark house, but Ned's car was parked out front and the porch light was on. She sat in the car for a few minutes, blotting her tears and trying to make herself look more normal. Then she took a deep breath, gathered her bag and walked up the front steps. Darius was probably inside, and she would just tell them she wasn't feeling well. The thought of entertaining anyone was way too much.

ESPN was playing on the television, but Ned was alone. He looked up at her when she walked in. "Hey babe," he said, although she could hear the tension in his voice.

"I thought you'd still be out," she said, and she was happy that her voice sounded so close to normal. "Mmm?"

Ned immediately stood up, reaching for her bag. "We sat down, ordered a beer, nachos—then he got a call. We'll catch up next time he's in town." Ned shrugged, but he obviously wasn't thrilled. He had really been looking forward to seeing his old friend. "Here, put your feet up. Did you have dinner?"

She glanced, briefly, at the stairs and the promise of their soft, welcoming bed, then released a little sigh. "Uh, not really," she admitted.

"I can throw some brats on the plug-in grill. Shouldn't take too long. Or you want something else?"

"No, that sounds fine. Thanks." 

Ned went in the kitchen, and as soon as Nancy sat down, she released a long sigh. Her chest felt tight with pent-up tears. When her stomach growled, though, she chuckled. "Traitor," she murmured.

She had fallen asleep, though, when Ned came back in with her plate. Her vision was blurred with tears when she opened her eyes. "Oh," he murmured, putting her plate down on the coffee table before he sat down beside her. She sat up and Ned wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. She buried her head against him and wished she could just burrow into him.

"Was it bad?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

It was hard to talk around the lump in her throat. "Not yet," she whispered.

"Okay." He rubbed her back. "Can I do anything?"

She shook her head.

He nuzzled against her cheek and kissed her earlobe, and she shivered, her hand sliding over him. She curled her fingers just inside his waistband, then brushed her lips against his neck too.

The bratwurst was just right, and he had topped hers just the way she liked it and put a handful of potato chips on the plate too. She hadn't really expected to have an appetite, but she cleared her entire plate while ignoring the sports recaps and listening to Ned's account of his day. Apparently his day hadn't been going that well until Darius's visit, and he had really been looking forward to it to turn his day around. And, Nancy was sure, her being upset after her therapy session hadn't helped with that. She was glad to be able to listen to him, to relax and just respond to him with nods and murmured assent. He wasn't putting any pressure on her.

After Ned had finished his dinner, Nancy took both their plates to the kitchen and refilled her glass, then came back to the couch. She felt both exhausted and jittery, and she didn't know if going upstairs and trying to sleep would actually result in anything more than staring up at the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts, feeling even more upset.

"Come here," Ned murmured, and she cuddled up with him on the couch, one of his arms draped over her and his hand gently stroking against her belly, his other arm tucked under her head to pillow it. When his hand slowly moved under her shirt and brushed against bare skin, she closed her eyes.

"I love you."

"Mmm. I love you," she whispered in response. "Sorry things didn't work out today. Sorry... about all this."

He kissed the crown of her head. "Hey. What are best friends for?" he murmured. "It's not always gonna be great. But this is. It's gonna be okay, Nan."

She rested her hand over his, focusing on the warmth of his skin against hers, the rise and fall of his chest. When the thought came to her, she didn't ponder it too long; she slid her hand down and moved her fingers under the waistband of his pants, then sat up. "Here," she murmured, and he angled his hips up so she could slide them down.

She kissed his belly button, his hips, nuzzling against him as she stroked him with her fingertips, bringing him to full arousal. She kissed his erection, and he threaded his fingers through her hair as she first began to take him in her mouth.

"Shit, baby," he groaned. "Oh, Nan..."

She was fully clothed and Ned was half-naked, his shirt pushed up and his cock in her mouth, and she loved the power of it. She didn't want to deep throat him, not today, but she used every other trick she knew on him, swirling her tongue around him and stroking him until he was panting.

"Baby, oh my God..." He moved under her, and she could sense what he wanted. They didn't often do this, or at least she didn't. Ned had no problem going down on her until she'd come three times, completely focused on her pleasure, but he wasn't often the center of _her_ attention, not like this. He loved getting her off, too.

She didn't let him distract her, though, and he groaned loudly as he came. She kept her lips wrapped around him, and he shuddered when she licked the last trace of his cum from the tip of his cock.

It took a minute for him to catch his breath, and she couldn't help smiling in satisfaction. It had been a while since she had focused so wholly on him, and she loved seeing him so vulnerable and sated. "You... okay, you, me, butterfly, upstairs."

She shook her head and stroked his bare hip. She loved putting her hands on him like this, when he was still spent and dazed with pleasure. She leaned down and kissed his skin again, trailing up until she licked his nipple, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm gonna tie you to the bed," he murmured. "And then we'll talk."

Her heart skipped a beat. "No," she whispered, and sat up, looking into his dark eyes. "Please, not yet."

He nodded and reached up to stroke her cheek. "Can I make love to you, too?"

She closed her eyes, then turned her head to kiss his fingertips. "Yeah," she whispered. "As long as your homework's done."

He smiled. "I'll finish it up tomorrow, ma'am," he told her. "If that's okay."

When he started to get up, she did too, but he shook his head. "Mmm. Your show's about to come on, anyway. I'll be right back."

She had forgotten; she had forgotten about everything. She had just wanted to forget about her appointment so much. She sat back down on the couch, wondering how he would react if he came downstairs and found her totally naked, but just shook her head, a slight smile on her face. Not right now. Not tonight.

_Tell me something that has made you feel proud of yourself this week. Professional is good, but in your personal life...?_

She couldn't talk to Dr. Monroe about the work she and Ned were doing, to find the other women Jamie had abused. Three of them, so far, and a fourth possible one, the one she was going to talk to the following night. She had built a wall around herself in the time after, around the knowledge of what Jamie had done to her; now the interior had crumbled into a deep, terrible hole that she sometimes fell into. She was many things, but now _rape survivor_ was on the list, and she hated hearing herself referred to that way, or thinking about herself that way, because the women Jamie had hurt made her feel sorrow and pity and it was just so hard, so _fucking_ hard, and she would be proud of what they had done—but not yet. She didn't want the credit or the thanks for it, but she needed it to happen.

Even though it was terrifying, even though she was a different person than who she had been back then. She was more than just a _rape survivor._ She had goals and dreams and a husband who adored her, friends who loved her, but those women, the women who were _like her_ , they were always and ever reduced to a thing that had happened to them.

It was humiliating. It was unfair.

And she couldn't be proud of just living through another week, feeling marginally stronger, feeling slightly less physically dependent on her husband. She was better than that. She had to be better than that.

But Jamie had taken that away from her.

She glanced up when Ned came back downstairs, something in his hands. She hoped it was the butterfly; she liked the idea of that. She liked the idea of it even now.

"Did you find the remote?"

"I got it," she told him, reaching for it. "Did _you_?"

Ned chuckled. "Don't you wish, sweetheart. Take your underwear off."

She obeyed him, but as he watched her, she took her blouse off too, then her bra. He made a quiet sound of approval, reaching for his own fly. "Mmm. God, you're beautiful."

"You too," she told him, watching him spread a towel over the middle seat on the couch. " _And_ considerate."

"I try." He finished stripping down, showing off a little for her when she kept gazing at him. Despite how long they had been married and how comfortable they were with each other, she still blushed a little, even though she couldn't look away. Sometimes it was still hard to believe, even over a year later, that she belonged to someone who loved her so much, who knew everything about her.

"Oooh," she murmured, when she saw what was in his hand. He had brought the harness that held the rabbit, but he had also brought down a remote-control vibrator they hadn't used yet. She personally thought it looked kind of like a small, rounded ergonomic stapler, but the two ends didn't touch. They were both ribbed.

"The harness to hold it in?" she asked, and he nodded. The butterfly was nice, especially if they were having sex while she was wearing it, but she liked it with another toy or two in play. The new toy, she was supposed to be able to use while they were having sex, but she just wasn't quite sure how that would work.

She moved on top of him and they were both naked, and she was hypersensitive; even the slightest brush against her skin made her shiver. He left the halter and the new toy on the coffee table and they settled together, her legs slightly parted, her back against his chest. Ned's head was propped up by the arm of the couch, and hers was resting half against that, half against his shoulder. Her breasts were shallow, her nipples peaked, and she could see the pale tangle of her pubic hair from the other side of her belly. Ned rested his hands against her chest and she marveled at the contrast between, his tanned skin against her pale flesh.

"You need to be wet," he murmured, during the opening credits of her show, and she shivered a little. "That sweet cunt needs to be wet and tight for me before we do this. Did it make you wet to suck me off, baby? To feel what you were doing to me? You were so fucking hot, Nan. Tell me how it feels right now."

"My cunt?" she murmured, knowing that he got off just hearing her say the word. He reached up and began to idly stroke her nipple, back and forth. "Mmm. It feels slick and tight and hot, because my incredibly handsome husband is naked and in the mood to fuck. But I think you can make it _dripping_ wet, gorgeous. That other part is a g-spot stimulator, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." He reached up and cupped both her breasts, gently squeezing and then roughly fondling her nipples. "G-spot and clit, to treat that sweet honeypot jusssst right. Just the kind of thing my incredibly incompetent secretary might need to train her up for me."

"Positive reinforcement is _incredibly_ effective," she teased him, squirming a little as he pinched her nipples again. Then he rubbed the flat of his palms against the tender pebbled tips, and she sighed. "An orgasm for doing something right _definitely_ sounds like a good idea."

"Like telling me why you were upset?" he murmured, still rubbing her nipples. "I'll let you feel so good, just tell me..."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I want this to be good," she whispered. "What we're doing. What we're trying to do, for those... other women. But I hate... thinking about it. I hate thinking of myself as a _victim._ " She closed her eyes, trying not to cry, and her husband cupped her breasts and kissed her temple. "When I think of them I just feel sad for them, _pity_ , and I don't _fucking need_ pity. I don't want to be _just_ someone he hurt so long ago."

"And you're not." He kept one hand on her breast and rubbed the other one down her chest, down her abdomen, to the join of her thighs. He stroked two fingers against the seam where her upper leg met her torso. "You're a beautiful strong woman, the love of my damn life, drop-dead sexy and brilliant and so incredibly sweet. You happened to get involved with an asshole during a bad time in your life. I dated a girl who started stalking me. It's not _you_ , baby, but it's a piece of you. It will always be a piece of you. And it will be a piece that doesn't matter so much, until it's smaller and smaller. Until it's more important that you have beautiful reddish-gold hair and a husband who loves you and loves the life he has with you, and that you're the best damn detective alive.

"But don't deny yourself the right to feel sad about what happened to you. It happened, and it's done. You spent a long time pretending it never happened, that you deserved it, and you didn't. And I hate that what we're doing might be hurting you like this." He stroked his fingers up the other side, against her inner thigh, and she drew a sharp breath when he pinched her nipple. "Once they file the charges, once other women see his mug shot on the news and know what he's done, I think we'll be close. I think then maybe we'll be done. But this is _ours_ , Nan, yours and mine. He hurt you, and we're going to hurt him back."

She blinked, bending her knees and parting her legs as Ned went back to fondling her breasts, stroking and pinching her nipples. He waited until she was moaning quietly, until she touched his hand, to move it down and cup the join of her thighs again. He rubbed his index finger and middle finger against either side of her slit, so close to her tender slick skin, and she moaned more loudly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mmm. _Good_ girl. You're more than what he did to you. You're better than what he did to you, and what he took from you, and I will give you more, baby, so much more. Starting with this. With that toy buzzing against your clit and in that sweet tight cunt until you're begging me to fuck it."

"I'd beg you now," she whispered. "Oh _fuck_..."

"Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she moaned.

"Say it."

"I'm more than what he did to me," she whispered, and her voice caught with a sob in the middle, and then again.

"That's right. More."

"I'm better—" She tipped her head back with a gasp when he traced the slit of her sex with his index finger. "Than what he did to me."

"Mmm-hmm. Very good. Very good, sweetheart. And you are. I love you."

"I love you too." She realized that he was watching what he was doing to her, watching the way her nipples tightened and sprang back from his abuse. He groaned in approval when he parted the lips of her sex and saw her clit.

"Mmm. I fucking love this," he murmured. "I love that you're mine. That I can put my hands all over you and I know that you love it. You're going to scream until the windows shake. You're going to beg me to let you come. I can't wait, beautiful."

She moaned, when he very gently brushed his fingertip against the tender lips of her cunt and found them wet. "Please," she groaned. She reached for the toy and, moving so she could meet his eyes, swirled her tongue around one tip of it, then the other.

"Fuck yes," Ned breathed. "Now lick it... God, it's like you're reading my mind."

She licked it all the way down, the way she liked to give him foreplay before she gave him head, and his gaze flicked from her eyes to what she was doing repeatedly. "Damn it, girl, I'm getting hard again... give that to me."

She relaxed against him again once he was holding the toy. "Think we need the halter?"

"Let's see," he suggested, fondling her breast again as he dragged the toy over her belly, down to the join of her thighs. She pressed down on her heels to shift her hips and give him a good angle, and he chuckled. "I love it when my sweet wife is hotter than fucking _hell_ for me."

"Always," she moaned. "Oh my God..."

He worked the toy against her, until she was writhing and grinding her hips against it. "Now," she begged him. "Oh my God, please, _now_..."

He kissed her temple. "You deserve this," he murmured against her skin. "You deserve to be worshiped and loved and fucked like a horny sorority girl. When you want it, always. And you want this toy inside you, buzzing against all your sweet spots... open those pussy lips for me, beautiful."

She spread herself wide open for him, panting when he began to work it inside her. "Oh my _God_ ," she moaned. "Ohhhh..."

"That's right, baby." She tipped her head back, nuzzling against his jaw and then beginning to suck a hickey against his neck as he pushed it all the way inside her. "Mmm, that's right, I know you love it. You dirty, dirty girl."

"Feels so good," she moaned. "Controls..."

"All mine." He cupped her breast, squeezing her nipple, and then he shifted so she was on her back on the couch and he was crouching over her, his erection flushed and hard. She kept her knees bent, panting as she rocked her hips, and she arched when he thumbed up the vibration and began to suckle against her breast.

"Neddddd," she moaned. "Oh fuck oh _fuck right ohhhhhhhhhhhh_ —"

"That's right, baby. Hands and knees, you dirty girl, so I can fuck you from behind. Mmmmmm..."

He pinched and stroked her nipple while he licked and gently bit the other, as the vibrator hummed against her clit and her g-spot, and when he reached down to press it harder against her, she screamed.

"Right there?"

" _Yes YES OH GOD OH GODDDDDD—"_

She screamed again as he thumbed the controls up, until it was jittering hard against her tender flesh.

"Mmm. Shh," he murmured, as he brought it back down again, until it was barely humming. She dug her nails against his shoulder blade, then raked her fingers through his hair, her hips still jerking.

"Please..."

"God, I love it when you beg me," he murmured against her breast. He brought the speed back up to halfway, switching to her other nipple, and she drew her hand down his hip, then rubbed her palm against the base of his erection.

"Beg _me_ ," she murmured.

He moved over her, supporting his weight on his palms, kicking the vibration up a little bit more. His lips quirked up when hers parted, when she brushed her knees against his hips. His dark eyes were glowing with desire and need as he looked into hers. "I beg you," he murmured, his gaze flicking down to her lips, then back up to her eyes again. He leaned down and moved one knee to press against the toy between her legs, and her eyes rolled back with pleasure. She forced herself to look up at him again, panting harshly, and he kissed her just beneath her earlobe. "I beg you to let me fuck that sweet, tight cunt. Get on your fucking hands and knees."

"Oh my God," she moaned, and she moved so she could rub her nipples against the rough texture of the arm of the couch, her knees parted and propped on the towel. Ned moved behind her, and he increased the vibration just before he began to rub the head of his cock against the lips of her cunt.

"Oh shit—"

"Oh _SHIT!_ " she screamed as he began to slide into her, his cock so hard and hot, and tight inside her against the toy.

" _Shit,_ " Ned growled, and gently bit her shoulder. "Oh _fuck_ , that feels so fucking good..."

"Turn it—up—" she gasped out, and Ned let out something between a loud gasp and a cry when he obeyed her.

"Holy _fuck_ , baby. Oh _shit!_ "

"Yeah..." She reached down to hold the toy inside her as he pulled out of her for another thrust, and she sobbed with pleasure when he began to fuck her with long, hard strokes. He pushed the vibration up to maximum and she screamed loudly as she came, rubbing her nipples against the corner of the couch's arm, her back arched. She came with a gush of fluid, bearing down against him, and he didn't take down the vibration or stop fucking her. She sobbed, moving against his thrusts, and he groaned in pleasure. 

"Oh God that's right, oh _God_..."

He kissed her neck, and she trembled, turning to kiss him. He kissed the corner of her mouth and the point of her jaw, then moved until his full length was inside her, and her eyes rolled back. She came again, her scream so high that it was a whisper at the top of her voice, her husband's naked body warm against her bare back. She sobbed because she couldn't find the words, because the feel of him inside her was so incredibly wicked and beautiful and _deep_. Her cunt was so tender and wet, and she was so sensitive that his thrusts and the toy's vibration felt infinitely more intense.

"Okay," she gasped. " _Come_..."

He moved inside her and brushed his lips against her neck as he came, sighing against her skin. She could feel his heart pounding against her back, and he kissed her shoulder blades, her spine. Once he slowly slid out of her, she reached between her legs and began to work the toy out of her, then collapsed to the couch, trying to catch her breath.

"That was incredible," he murmured, and kissed her back again.

"Yeah," she whispered, her eyes closed. "Oh my God, Ned..."

She used the last bit of her strength to turn over, to reach for him. He stretched out and rested against her, and she looped one leg around him, running her fingers through his hair. They were naked and wrapped around each other, glowing with sweat, and she could still feel the tenderness inside her from their lovemaking.

He kissed her neck and she nuzzled against his temple, and then he pulled back to gaze into her eyes. "You are my favorite person in the whole world, and I love you so much I ache with it. Are you feeling better?"

She smiled and gently cupped his cheek. "Yeah," she whispered. "I am. Nothing like a mind-blowing orgasm or two and an amateur therapist's treatment session to take a girl's mind off things."

"You better not let any other therapist treat you that way," he told her, mock-sternly. Then he leaned down and kissed her, slow and sweet. "You mean everything to me," he whispered against her lips.

"And you mean everything to me," she told him softly. "I love you like you are my whole heart."

"Me too, baby. Me too."

\--

The girl had asked to meet Nancy at a downtown bar at six o'clock, which didn't feel at all unusual. Many clients didn't want to walk into a private detective agency, just in case someone was watching. She had managed chance meetings with clients in parking garages and in elevators, when the case called for it. It was easier to think about the meeting for tonight that way than as what it was, and despite herself, she caught herself wishing that the other girl wouldn't show, that it wouldn't be so soon, that she would have more time to prepare first.

Before she left work, she changed into a pair of tight skinny jeans and a black flowered top, loose and long-sleeved. The fabric was thin, but the blouse was flattering. She looked like she was ready for a casual dinner date with a friend or maybe someone a little more serious. A pair of gladiator sandals later, and she was ready.

As soon as she had told Ned about her plans, he had agreed to pick her up there afterward and head to their favorite Chicago pizza place, especially knowing that she would likely be feeling bruised and withdrawn. She loved him, and she knew he was still feeling a little protective. He generally did feel protective of her, even if he did his absolute best to keep from stifling her; Nancy had been sure that the girl she was meeting likely wouldn't appreciate an audience, especially if that audience was another man. And it had been a while since the two of them had had some great Chicago-style pizza.

She was going to need to remind him to do his homework—although she never really needed to remind Ned to do his homework. Ned's dedication to his degree was an amazing sight; the only thing he seemed to value more was the people he loved.

She had ordered Sprite with a lime twist for camouflage, and she was just reaching for the sweating glass when the jukebox cranked up. The bar was flooded with red-neon light, echoing with ten-year-old rock music that hadn't even been that good the first time around. Peanut shells and sawdust littered the floor. She couldn't even count the number of times she had been in places like this, surveilling places like this. It was the kind of place where—

"Thought so."

He pulled out the chair at the table, facing her. Him. _Him._

Nancy looked up into Jamie's face and thought she was going to faint. Her heels scrubbed against the sawdust-littered floor as she tried to push herself back and away from him. It was like moving in a nightmare, too fucking slow, everything was too fucking slow except him.

Jamie reached over and clamped his hand around her wrist and her face was cold; her skin crawled. She opened her mouth but couldn't say anything.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He looked _the same._ He looked so much like he had when they had dated, give or take a few pounds. She saw every pore and bit of stubble on his face in stark, terrifying detail. Her heart was pounding. His skin was touching hers. His _skin_.

"Did you hear me, you dumb bitch?"

Nancy gave her head a small shake. "What are you doing here?" Her voice almost even sounded normal. Almost.

"The big famous detective is a step behind?" Jamie grinned. It was hard to see how she had ever found him attractive, now. "Really? You thought you could fuck my life up and just hope I wouldn't notice?"

"What are you talking about?"

Jamie shook his head incredulously, sitting back, but he didn't release her hand. "Keep playing dumb. I know about your fucking want-ads. You know, 'Ever wanted to falsely accuse someone of date rape? Now's your chance.'"

She could feel an icy pressure building at the back of her head. If one of the girls they had caught in the net had alerted him, then this entire meeting had been a setup, and Nancy was caught in it. If not, the girl who had arranged it would probably freak out as soon as she arrived—but Nancy thought that scenario terribly unlikely, now. "No," she said.

He picked up her wrist and slammed her hand on the table, not hard enough to hurt her but hard enough to leave a sort of stinging ache in the heel of her hand, and it galvanized her. She brought her free hand to the small of her back, and the comforting weight of her side piece rested there.

"I don't know what the fuck's wrong with you, you dumb crazy bitch. I don't know why you set that meathead on me, but you'll pay. Oh, you'll fucking pay for all the lies and the bullshit."

Her heart felt like it was screaming for her husband, for anyone to help her. Her mind was growing cold and frighteningly clear. "There were no lies," she told him. "Is that what you think?"

"You wanted it. You _know_ you wanted it. And then you went and told some sob story to your meathead boyfriend, whining about how it was rape. You dumb fucking cunt." He said the last in a low, angry growl.

Nancy shook her head. "You," she said, and her throat was thick. "You did rape me."

"What the hell are you talking about? You went to bed with me _willingly_. You liar."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Not the night of the party when we were drinking," she forced herself to say. "Not that night. Not the night when we were at your friend's place and you pulled me into the laundry room. No. I told you no."

"But you still wanted it. I know you did. You were wet for me..."

She shook her head, miserable. The cold was beginning to break, to leave her trembling. All the anxiety and fear that had been building over the past few days was beginning to leak through. "I told you no," she repeated. "Any other night and you could have had me, but I told you no and you didn't listen."

"You just needed some encouragement."

"You get your _fucking hands off her._ "

Nancy glanced up. Ned had arrived; he was standing beside their table, and his voice was so cold. Jamie stood, releasing her, and Ned straightened up, his gaze locked to Jamie.

"Get behind me." Ned put his hand on her shoulder. He was glaring at Jamie like he could set him ablaze with just his mind. "What the fuck are you doing here, asshole?"

"Same to you. You called in your attack dog?" Jamie snarled.

Nancy shook her head. "I didn't need any encouragement, Jamie. I told you no. And you didn't care. You hurt me and you hurt those other women. I didn't lie to anyone, you asshole. I didn't need to."

"I didn't _hurt you_. You know you loved it."

"Not when she says no." Ned's fist and jaw were clenched. "He came here to meet you? It was a trick?"

"Yeah," Nancy whispered.

"You came here to meet my wife and tell her that she was a liar?"

"And a cunt," Nancy said. "A dumb fucking bitch and a cunt."

She hadn't been able to keep herself from saying it, even knowing that it would be like a waving flag to a bull. Ned brought his head up.

"I'm going to blow your fucking head off."

"I thought you understood, man. She is a _freak_ in bed, and she just wanted to act like a pure little good girl for you. Of course if she'd had sex with anyone else, it was rape." Jamie shook his head. "She's _lying_ , man."

Ned shook his head slowly. "She's not like that," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "None of them were like that. That trip to the alley I took with you will be a pleasant memory, in comparison to the rest of your life. You won't just be paying for what you did to her anymore. You're going to pay for all of them. Every single one, you piece of shit."

"You pussy-whipped little bitch."

"And you sanctimonious self-righteous prick. You thought you could do it again, because you're scared. Because down in your shriveled heart of hearts, you _know_ she can get you this way, and she's going to. My God, she's going to. They _gave up_ to make the pain stop, because that's all you are. A total fucking pain."

"She'd told me yes before." Jamie's eyes were blazing, his jaw set.

Ned shrugged. "I don't fucking care to you what she said an _hour_ before. She told you no, then. And apparently you've _always_ had a hearing problem, if you don't understand that now."

Jamie picked up his chair and shoved it under the table with a disgusted grunt. "You'll be hearing from my attorney."

"And you'll be hearing from mine." Nancy's voice was shaking a little, but with anger. "We can talk to him about what you did to me. About the ecstasy you tried to give me that night. About the bruises."

She had linked her fingers around Ned's wrist while she was speaking, and only her tugging on him kept him from launching across the table and punching Jamie in the face.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"If you come near her again—" Ned began.

"Yeah, I know. I know. I'm sure the cops would love to know about that too." Jamie shook his head. "Nan, you know it wasn't like that."

She shook her head. "It was," she said quietly. "It was like that. I thought you cared about me. But I guess I am stupid, for ever thinking you were a decent guy. I don't know why you thought it was okay to hurt me the way you did, and to be honest I don't care. I never want to see you again. You hurt me. You don't have the _fucking right_ to tell me that you didn't."

"You're just saying that to impress him."

Nancy shook her head and laced her fingers through Ned's. Her voice was shaking a little, but at least it was still clear. "Go to hell, Jamie. Just go to hell. And I hope to God you pay for every moment of pain you inflicted on me and anyone else."

She hefted her purse onto her shoulder and tightened her grip on Ned, and he walked with her to the door of the bar, then out onto the street. The light had just begun to turn golden.

And her breath had caught in her throat, and as soon as they were outside Ned wrapped his arm around her waist. "Come here," he said, and she was lightheaded and tears were rising in her eyes. "Shh. Shh. Come here."

He drew her into the coffee shop next door. The dark, rich odor of the coffee, the sugar from the pastries, perfume and sweat and warmth and laughter—

He pulled her to an unoccupied corner near the door and she clung to her husband, burying her face against his neck, hot tears pricking her eyes. She held him tight and he held her too.

"I was hoping it wouldn't take long and I'm glad I came early," he murmured against her ear, in a rush. "When I saw him there I wanted to kill him..."

She couldn't respond. She felt raw, and she had been completely stunned to see Jamie sitting there. "He didn't think he did anything wrong," she whispered.

"But he did." Ned's voice was so sure. "And you got to him, Nan. He's scared now."

"He said he didn't—rape me." She closed her eyes tight, and her fingers caught in the collar of Ned's shirt. "Oh my God..."

"You're safe, baby. You're safe. It's gonna be okay."

It was as though someone else was in control of her body, for a little while. She found her fingers tangled in his clothes, gripping his shoulder, his side. She savored the warmth of his closeness even over the warmth inside the coffee shop, the soothing stroke of his palm against her back. Every time the bell over the door announced the arrival of another customer, she pressed closer to him for a moment, knowing that it wouldn't be Jamie but terrified that it might be.

Ned kissed her temple, her cheekbone, her earlobe. "You're okay," he whispered. "Should I call Dr. Monroe?"

A shudder went down her spine. "N-No," she stammered. "No. Please take me home."

"Do you want me to call in an order, or just go straight there?"

She felt like her heart was fluttering. She had been looking forward to it, and she knew he had too. "You—call it in," she said, and began to look around. She could rest for a minute, maybe, but they were too close. _He knew where she worked. He knew—_

Ned had pulled out his phone, but when her breathing became faster, he cast a concerned glance her way. She reached for his hand and held it tight, concentrating on _here and now_ instead of her panic.

Then she reached for her purse. When the girl had emailed Nancy to ask if they could meet tonight, her name sure as hell hadn't been James Harrington.

She was feeling calm enough to drive by the time their pizza was ready, because she had something to focus on. She met Ned back at their townhouse, her mind buzzing the same way it had been the day before. She could track down the person who had tipped him off; maybe that girl was still afraid of him, still trying to keep his favor and prove her loyalty to him...

She also knew exactly what Ned was going to say before they sat down at their kitchen table and started dividing up the pie. He waited until each of them had finished their first slice, though.

"Are we going to talk to your dad?"

Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she put down her glass with a soft click. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I don't want to, but after this, we might have to. And we need to be honest with him. He hates surprises, when he's defending someone."

"You really think that asshole would bring a civil suit?"

Nancy shrugged. "I think he'd threaten it. I don't know if he'd do it. Guess it depends on how scared he is, and judging by tonight..." She shuddered.

He reached for her hand. "I'm sorry. I kind of feel like part of this is my fault."

She shrugged and gave him a small smile, the first one she had been able to manage. "It's not; it's entirely his. But I haven't heard about your day yet," she said. "I hope today was better than yesterday."

"Well, believe me, there's no way it could've topped last night..."

She relaxed some, although she couldn't help listening for a slammed car door outside, as he told her about his day at work, as they talked about plans for the weekend. They had talked about hosting a barbecue soon, but after the huge blowout at Fox Lake, Nancy hadn't really wanted to compete with the memory, not until next month. Besides, Jan was heavily pregnant and hardly able to do anything anymore, and she thought it might be a nice surprise to arrange one after the baby was born.

After they had finished their dinner, she told Ned she would join him in the living room in a few minutes, after she had finished tidying up the kitchen. He gave her a long look, but she shooed him away.

The name on the email account, the girl she had thought she would be meeting tonight, was possibly named Christin Moore.

Nancy combed her fingers through her hair, considering the message on her phone's screen for a moment, before she went to the refrigerator to refill her glass.

Jamie wanted to play dirty, but Nancy was above that. She thought she remembered a similar name from when Ned had been combing through Jamie's social media accounts, tracking his movements over the past few years, finding possible candidates who might share Nancy's awful experience.

She was going to have to tell her father. All of it. Beyond what her therapist knew. At least his finding out what Ned had done would be covered by privilege, and if Jamie dared bring him to court over it, her father would rip him apart.

She closed her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek. He was her father, and in the face of this she felt like a scared little girl, admitting something that might hurt him, admitting something that had happened so long ago. It was done, and she wasn't who she had been, but that didn't seem to matter anymore.

_I don't want to just be a rape survivor._

She was infinitely more than that, to her father. She was his little girl.

And Jamie had no idea who he was up against, not at all.


End file.
